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I 


SIX GIRLS. 


My critic, Belfair, wants a book 

Entirely different, which will sell (and live); 

A striking book, yet not a startling book. 

The public blames originalities, 

(You must not pump spring- water unawares 
Upon a gracious public full of nerves) ; 

Good things, not subtle, new, yet orthodox; 
As easy reading as the dog-eared page 
That’s fingered by said public fifty years, 
Since first taught spelling by its grandmother; 
And yet a revelation in some sort. 

That’s hard, my critic, Belfair. 


Aurora Leigh% 


SIX GIRLS 


A 

HOME STORY. 


FANNIE BELLE IRVING. 



OF 





J. C^. ADAMS & CO., BOSTON. 

i88i. 


Copyright^ i88i, 

By J. Adams & Co., 
Boston. 


Press of 

E, K. Dunhar Co» 
Boston. 


CONTENTS 


'to:—— 


CHAPTBR PAGB 

I. Under the Trees 7 

IL Around THE FmE i8 

III. A Foundation that brought Kat to 

GRIEF . . 38, 

IV, In Confidence 51 

V. One Day 65 

VI. A Stranger 80 

VII. Mr. Congreve surprises Himself and 

every one else 97 

VIII. Odds and Ends . . 113 

IX. What Olive heard 128 

X. The little Black Trunk . . . . .148 

XL Where is Ernestine? 168 

XII. The Story 188 

XIII. A Year after 202 


vi. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGB 

XIV. Study or Play ......... 221 

XV. Congreve Hall 240 

XVI. Under the shady green-wood Tree . .257 

XVII. Several Things 284 

XVIII. At the Opera 306 

XIX. Coming Home 336 

XX. A Sad Story 355 

XXI. My Lady 368 

XXII To Rear, to I-Ove, and then to Lose . 380 

XXIII. When God drew near, among His Own 

TO CHOOSE 406 

XXIV. Two Secrets 420 

XXV. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a 

Good-Night — Five Years later . 437 


SIX GIRLS 


CHAPTER I. 

UNDER THE TREES. 

There were ripples of sunshine all tangled in the glowing 
scarlet of the geranium bed and dancing blithely over the 
grass. A world of melody in quivering bursts of happy 
song, came from the spreading canopy of leaves overhead, 
and as an accompaniment, the wind laughed and whispered 
and kept the air in one continual smile with a kiss on its 
lips, bom of supreme contentment in the summer loveli- 
ness. 

In the cool, deep shade, cast by the grandest of old 
beech trees, a girl sat, her white dress in freshest relief 
against the green surroundings, a piece of sewing in her 
nimble fingers, and the wind tossing her loosened hair all 
about her face and shoulders. She was quite alone, and 
seemed just the setting for the quiet, lovely surroundings, 
so much so, that, had an artist chanced to catch the sight, 
he would have lost no time in transferring it to canvas, — 
the wide stretch of grass, alternately steeped in cool 
shadows and mellow sunshine, the branching, rustling 


8 


SIX GIRLS. 


canopy of leaves, the white-robed figure with smiling lips 
and busy fingers, and just visible in the back-ground, an 
old house wrapped in vines and lying in the shade. 

Somebody came from among the trees just at this mo- 
ment and crossed the grass with a peculiarly graceful and 
swaying step, as though she had just drifted down with the 
sunshine and was being idly blown along by the wind. 
Another girl in the palest of pink dresses, with ripples of 
snowy lace all over it, and a wide-brimmed hat shading 
her eyes. And speaking distance being gained, she said, 
with a breezy little laugh : Sewing ? Why, it ^s too 
warm to breathe.^’ 

‘‘That ’s the reason I sew/* returned the other, with a 
nod of energy. “ I should suffocate if I just sat still and 
thought how warm it was. Where have you been? ** 

“Down to the pond, skipping stones, and wishing that 
I could- go in,** answered the new-comer, sitting down 
on the grass with a careful and gracefully effective arrange- 
ment of her flounces and lace. “ I don*t see why papa 
won’t let us take the boat ; it did look too tempting. Sup- 
pose we go and do it, anyhow, Bea, and just let him see 
that we can manage it without being taught. The pond 
is all in the shade now, and a row would be delicious.** 

“Why, Ernestine,** Bea said, with a glance of surprise ; 
“ You would n*t, I know. Papa will teach us right away, 
and then we will have delightful times, but when he has 
been so good as to get us the boat and promise to have 


UNDER THE TREES. 


9 


us leam to manage it, I’m sure I wouldn’t disobey 
and try alone.” 

Ernestine laughed again her pretty saucy laugh and 
threw her head back so that it caught a dancing sunbeam 
and held it prisoner in the bright hair. 

‘‘I would,” she said flippantly, '^I’d like to, just 
for the sake of doing something. Do you know, Bea,” — 
knitting the arched brows with a petulant air, — Some- 
times I think I’ll do something dreadful; perfectly 
dreadful, you know, so as to have things different for 
a little bit. It’s horrible to live right along, just so, 
without anything ever happening.” 

‘‘ Well I’m sure,” said Bea, laying down her sewing and 
surveying her sister slowly, you have just about as good 
and easy a time as ever I heard of a girl’s having. What 
are you all dressed up so for? ” 

‘‘Just for something to do. I’ve tried on all my 
dresses and hats, and wasted the blessed afternoon 
parading before the glass,” laughed Ernestine, swinging 
her pretty hat with its shirrings of delicate pink, around 
on her white hand. “I do think this dress is lovely, 
so I made believe I was being dressed by my maid 
and coming out to walk in my park like an English lady, 
you know.” 

“ English fiddle-sticks,” said Bea, with energy. “ You 
are a goosey. Suppose you had to work and could n’t 
have pretty things and waste your time trying them on.” 


10 


SIX GIRLS. 


‘‘What misery/* cried Ernestine, jumping up and 
whirling around on her heel with an airy grace that 
the other girls might have practiced for in vain. “I 
wouldn’t want to live; it would be dreadful, Bea,” 
falling into an attitude with the sunshine over her, 
“ Would n’t I do well on the stage ? I know* I was born 
for it; now look here, and see if I don’t do as Miss 
Neilson did. Just suppose this ring of sunshine is 
a balcony and I’m in white, with such lovely jewels 
in my hair and all that : 

‘ Romeo, Romeo ! wherefore art thou Romeo?* — 
and away went Ernestine with a tragically pathetic energy 
that made Bea watch and listen, in spite of the disapprov- 
ing laugh on her lips. 

“ Don’t I do it well?” Ernestine asked complacently, 
after she had gone through the entire balcony scene, with 
great success in the management of two characters. 

“Yes, you do ; how can you?” asked Bea, won from 
disapproval by wondering admiration. 

“ Easiest in the world. I’ve been through it ever 
so many times since papa took us to the city to see 
her. Oh, Bea 1 how happy she must be ! I’d give 
worlds and worlds to be in her place,” cried Ernestine, 
with longing energy, and pacing restlessly up and down 
the grass. “ I wonder if I ever can.” 

“ Indeed,” said Bea with decision. “ The idea ! what 
would papa and mama say; you, Ernestine Dering, 


UNDER THE TREES. 


11 


parading out on a stage before crowds of people, and 
flying around like she did. Mercy on us ! ” 

^‘I’d do it in a minute, and if I can^t now, I 
will sometime anyhow,’’ Ernestine exclaimed with 
emphasis. I was n’t born to be smuggled up in this 
little musty town all my life and I won’t, either. Some 
day I’ll do something desperate ; you see if I don’t.” 

Well, I’ll declare ! ” said Bea slowly, having never 
witnessed quite such an energetic ending to Ernestine’s 
spells of restless dissatisfaction. ‘‘ What talk I I think 
you’d better sit down and cool off now. Where are 
Olive and Jean?” 

“ Olive is sketching out on the roof, and crosser 
than thirteen sticks. Jean is asleep on the porch, 
and mama is out showing Huldah how to make cream 
puffings.” 

Dear me,” said Bea, by way of answer and looking 
up with a slight pucker to her smooth forehead, ‘‘Just 
look at those girls ; I never saw the like.” 

Ernestine looked up, to catch a glimpse of two flying 
figures just clearing the fence, and come dashing across the 
grass like unruly arrows, to throw themselves under 
the shade of the beech, with a supreme disregard for 
flesh and bones that was harrowing. 

“ Goodness gracious ! ” gasped Kittie. 

“ Gracious goodness ! ” panted Kat. 

“ I beat.” 


12 


SIX GIRLS. 


‘^No sir, I did.” 

You did n^t ! I was on this side of the fence before 
you jumped.” 

'‘Just listen ; why I was pretty near to the tree before 
you got to the fence.” 

" Why Kat Dering ! You know better.” 

" I donH.” 

"You do.” 

"Well I’d fight about it,” said Ernestine, as the 
two sat up and faced each other with belligerent 
countenances. " You are a pretty looking couple anyhow. 
I’d be ashamed.” 

" Don’t care if you would. I beat anyhow,” said Kat 
with decision, and stretching out again. 

" Indeed you did n’t ; I did myself,” said Kittie 
with equal certainty, but smiling more amicably as she 
fanned energetically with her hat. " Oh girls such 
fun ! I must, ” 

" Now Kittie,” cried Kat with a warning jump and 
scowl. 

" Bless us, I’m going to tell ; indeed I am. You’re a 
trump, Kat, and they shall hear all about it ; don’t you 
want to girls ? ” 

"To be sure, go on,” said Bea with interest, and 
creasing down a hem with much satisfaction in the thought 
that her hands looked very pretty and white, almost 
as pretty as Ernestine’s. 


UNDER THE TREES. 


13 


‘'Well you see/' began Kitty, as Kat retired under her 
hat in a spasm of unusual modesty, “ when we came in from 
recess this afternoon, Kat wanted to sit in my side of the 
seat, and told me to act as if I was she, so I thought 
it was to be a lark of some kind and did, but dear 
me " 

“ Well go on,” said Ernestine with languid curiosity, as 
Kittie paused to laugh at some recollection. 

“Just as soon as we got in, Miss Howard told us to put 
books away ; then she gave us the breeziest lecture, and 
was as solemn as an owl. I couldn’t imagine what was 
up. Susie Darrow was crying with her handkerchief to 
her nose, Kat looked as if she was sitting on pins and 
needles, and I really thought that Sadie Brooks and 
May Moor would eat us up, the way they actually glared 
at us. Well, the first thing I knew, Miss Howard was 
saying something about a needle in Susie Barrow’s pen, 
that she had stuck her nose with, and she wanted who- 
ever had put it there to come to her desk. That’s 
the way she always does, you know ; never calls a name 
unless she finds she has to, and bless you, who should 
I see walking off, but Kat, and what does Miss Howard 
do, but take her ruler and give her fifteen, slaps on 
the hand. Kat, I’m meaner 'n dirt, and you ’re a jewel ; 
you did beat. I’ll own up.” 

“No such thing, you beat yourself,” came in a 
sepulchral growl from under the hat. 


14 


SIX GIRLS. 


^^Well I*m sure I don't see the point," said Ernestine 
with impatience. ‘^It was very rude and unladylike 
to put a needle in Susie's pen and you deserved your 
fifteen slaps." 

'‘Just wait 'till I finish, will you," cried Kitlie, as the 
hat maintained perfect silence. " Kat did n't do it, 
but she heard that I did, and that I was going to 
be whipped, so she took my seat and jumped up the 
minute Miss Howard spoke, and the only way I found out 
was when Miss Howard saidj 'Now Kittie you must 
beg Susie's pardon before the school.' Then I knew 
something was up, and just popped right out of my seat 
and said, that that was Kat, not me, and did n't it make 
a hubbub, and did n't Miss Howard look funny I " 

" It was lively," broke in Kat, and coming out from 
under the hat as if inspired with the recollection, " Miss 
Howard looked as blank as you please, and like to have 
never gotten at the straight of it ; but after awhile lame 
Jack told how he had seen Sadie and May fix it them- 
selves, and plan to tell it was Kittie, and oh did n't they 
look cheap, and didn't they creep off to-night and 
take every book along? " 

"But wasn't Kat just too dear and good to take 
a whipping to save me," cried Kittie, throwing both arms 
around her twin in a hug full of devotion. " I'll never 
forget it Kat Dering, never 1 " 

"Well you'd better," said Kat, on whom praise 


UNDER THE TREES. 


16 


and glory rested uneasily, though she looked pleased and 
returned the hug with interest. “You’d have done 
it for me, I know, and I would again for you any day. 
Lets go out on the roof ; it’s much cooler than here.” 

You’d better not,” laughed Ernestine. Olive’s out 
there sketching, and she’ll take your head off with 
her usual sweetness, if you bother any.” 

‘‘Who cares? I’m going. Come on Kittie.” 

“ No lets not ; it’s cool here,” returned Kittie lazily. 
“ Where have you been Ernestine, all rigged in your best ? ” 

“Been at home pining for some place to go,” said 
Ernestine drawing the sewing from Bea’s hand, and lean- 
ing over into that sister’s lap with a caressive gesture, 
“ Say Bea, dear. Miss Neilson is going to be in New 
York next week, and I want you to ask pa if he won’t 
take us again ; won’t you? ” 

“Not fair,” cried Kat; “this is our turn.” 

“You, indeed ; nothing but children ! Will you, Bea? 
He will listen more if you ask because you ’re not 
so frivolous as I am.” 

“ Yes, I’ll ask. I’d love to go again,” said Bea with 
girlish delight in anticipating such a bliss as the repetition 
of going to the city and to the theatre. “ What play 
would you like to see ? ” 

“Romeo and Juliet again,” cried Ernestine eagerly. 
“ Oh Bea, beg him to, for there are some other parts that 
I want to see how to do.” 


16 


SIX GIRLS. 


‘‘ Do ! echoed Kittie, Whatever do you mean ? 

Just what I say. I’ll show you how they do ; shall I, 
Bea? ” exclaimed Ernestine, springing gayly into the sun- 
shine and striking an attitude. 

‘‘Yes, goon; you do it beautifully,” said Bea; so 
Ernestine plunged blithely into the play, thoroughly 
entrancing her three listeners with the ease and grace 
with which she spoke and acted, and receiving showers of 
applause as she paused. 

“ How delightful,” cried Kittie, in a longing rapture. 

“ Nonsense,” exclaimed Kat, who had listened intently 
with her nose steadily on the ascent, “It looks all 
very pretty and nice here, but I should think anybody 
would feel like a fool to get out on a stage and go ranting 
about like that.” 

“ Oh ! it’s too delightful,” cried Ernestine, as Bea passed 
no comment except a little sigh. “ I shall run away some 
day sure as the world and become a great actress ; then 
I’ll be rich and famous and you’ll all forgive me.” 

“ I thought you always wanted to sing,” said Kittie, 
chewing grass thoughtfully, as she meditated on this new 
and startling talent and wondered what would next 
develope. 

“ So I do, but I shall sing and act both. Now then 
pretend that I am Marguerite, in Faust, you know, 
and see if you don’t think I can do both, as well as one.” 
So they all looked and listened, while she sang and sang. 


UNDER THE TREES. 


17 


the very birds hushed their music in envious listening, 
and the rustling leaves seemed to grow still in very amaze. 
The sunshine danced over her bright hair, and the lovely 
face flashed with a radiant excitement, that showed 
how deep an enjoyment even the pretense was to her. 

Rapturous applause followed, and a new voice cried 
out, Oh ! Ernestine, how lovely; do it over,’^ and 
turning, they beheld an additional three to the audience. 
Jean leaning on her little crulch, wild with delight ; Olive, 
tall and still with a curl on her lip to match the scowl on 
her forehead; and mother, — bat what was the matter 
with mother, Bea wondered. She was very pale, and 
though she smiled, it did not hide the tremble that hung 
to her colorless lips. 


CHAPTER II. 


AROUND THE FIRE. 

A September twilight was coming on slowly, and in the 
grass the crickets chirped back and forth to each other. 
The house was all open, and through the windows came 
a merry chatter, a few rattling notes of the piano, and 
something that sounded very much like a warm argument, 
for a game of chess was going on by one window. Out 
on the broad porch that ran all along the front of the 
house, and was shrouded with vines, stood a girl, leaning 
idly against the post and watching the shadows gather 
across the long walk. She was not a pretty girl, nor one 
that you would care to look at twice, because of any 
pleasure it gave you ; though had you really studied her 
face, there might have been something found in it after all. 
There was a drawn, discontented look about her mouth, 
that made the lips look thin and snappish ; it even spoiled 
the shape of her really pretty nose, which was straight 
and finely cut. The brows, straight and black, held 
a heavy frown between them, and the eyes beneath had an 
unsatisfied, sour look, not at all attractive. Her forehead 
was altogether too high for beauty of any kind ; and 
as though there was a relief in making herself look just as 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


19 


Ugly as possible, all her hair was drawn back painfully 
smooth, and tucked into a net. Everything about her, 
from the crooked look of her necktie, to the toe of 
her slipper, with its rosette gone, plainly indicated that 
she was dissatisfied with herself, and aided nature by 
her own carelessness and indifference, to make herself just 
as unattractive as possible. Some one came up behind 
her as she stood there indulging in thoughts, anything but 
pleasing, and laid a gentle touch on her arm. 

Olive?” 

Well?” 

What makes you like to stay by yourself so much, and 
where it is n’t so nice ? The yard is getting so dark, and 
it’s real chilly. Don’t you ever get afraid?” 

Afraid here on the steps? That’s silly, Jean.” 

Perhaps ’tis, but I’m such a big coward ; I suppose it’s 
because I could n’t run if anything ever was to happen ; ” 
and Jean gave a little sigh, as she smoothed the padded 
top of her crutch. 

Olive gave a little start, half impatient, and turned 
around to ask, almost wistfully, ‘‘Jean, do you never 
get tired or impatient, or think sometime that you’d 
rather be dead than always walk on a crutch and have 
your back grow crooked? ” 

“ Why, Olive ! ” Jean lifted her beautiful eyes to look 
at her sister’s restless face, “ I could n’t be so wicked as 
that, could you?” 


20 


SIX GIRLS. 


In the twilight, Olive flushed at the question, and at the 
clear eyes searching her face. How many, many times 
had she wished she was dead, and for nothing except 
that she was ugly and awkward, and bound to see every- 
thing with the darkest side up. 

I’m not as good as you,” she answered evasively. 

Oh I’m not good,” said Jean, with a little laugh, half 
a sigh. ‘‘ I do get real tired sometimes, Olive, and I do 
want to be straight and well so much ; but Miss Willis told 
me something in Sunday-school last Sunday, that has 
made me feel so good ; she said, ‘ Jeanie, don’t get impa- 
tient or discouraged, for God has a reason why he wants 
you to be lame ; it is to be for the best some way, and 
perhaps sometime you will see it,’ and she said that when 
I tried to be happy and bear my lame back, it made God 
very happy ; and when I was cross and fussy, it made him 
sad.” 

Olive gave her eyes a swift brush with the back of 
her hand, and asked with a little choke, ‘‘ Do you believe 
all that, Jean.” 

Why, Olive, yes ! Don’t you? ” 

“ I don’t know, — who is that? ” was Olive’s rather dis- 
jointed answer, as the click of the gate sounded through 
the still evening ah*. 

It’s Ernestine, I know, ’cause she went up town ; — 
yes, there she is ; ” answered Jean, as a figure appeared 
under the foliage and came toward the steps. 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


21 


How different she looked from Olive and Jean. Such 
a slim, graceful figure, with a proud little head and sunny 
shining hair, in loose puffs and curls, and a jaunty hat. 
A face like a fresh lily, and beautiful brown eyes, the 
sweetest voice, and the vainest little heart ever known to a 
girl of fifteen, had Ernestine Dering ; and yet she was a 
favorite, with all her little vanities, and home, without 
Ernestine’s face, would have been blank to all the girls. 
She came running up the steps and stopped. 

Oh, Olive, such laces ! ” she cried, with a longing 
sigh. They are selling out at cost, and the ribbons and 
laces are just going for almost nothing ; if I had just had 
a little spending money, I would have been in clover. 
One clerk just insisted upon my taking an exquisite lace 
scarf ; oh it was so becoming ! but I told him I didn’t 
know they were selling out, and that I would have to 
come again.” 

‘‘ Pretty way of talking ! ” snapped Olive ungraciously. 
You know you won’t have any more money another day 
than you have this ; why could n’t you say no ? ” 

Say that I could n’t afford it? ” cried Ernestine gayly. 
Not I. Besides, I reasoned that if one of you would 
loan me some, I’d have more another day.” 

Suppose one of us won’t,” said Olive, looking darkly 
over her sister’s pretty hat. 

didn’t suppose you would,” laughed Ernestine. 
But fortunately for me, I have some obliging sisters,” 


22 


SIX GIRLS. 


and with that shot, Ernestine went in, singing like a 
mocking bird, and Jean followed slowly, looking back 
once or twice to Olivers motionless figure. 

Oh how it cut ! Olive grew flushed and white, then 
her brows came together darkly and her lips shut tight. 
‘‘ Ernestine is too frivolous to live,*’ she said grimly ; then 
looked straight off into the evening sky and was silent. 
But down to her proud, sensitive heart she was hurt, and 
in it was the longing wonder, Why don’t she come 
to me and ask as she does of Bea and the others. I 
would loan it to her ; ** but this feeling she fiercely refused 
to countenance, and shut her heart grimly, as she did 
her lips. 

The broad old hall that ran clear through the house 
was growing quite dark with shadows ; the game of chess 
had ended, and the players left the window, and present- 
ly Olive turned slowly, and went into the house. Through 
the sitting-room came a lively chatter, and as she passed 
the door some one shouted, Halloo ! ” 

Well I’m not deaf. Do you want me ? ” 

Pining to have you ; come sit on my lap.” 

Olive pasifjd in, but disregarded the hospitably inclined 
young lady, who lounged in a big chair, and passed on to 
a dusky corner, where she curled up on the lounge. 

Olive,” volunteered Kittie, who was in the window-sill, 
“ mama has a plan ; she’s going to tell us after supper, and 
we’ve all been trying to guess what it is ; what do you think ?” 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


23 


“ I don’t think anything.” 

What a glorious lack of curiosity,” laughed Kat. 

“I suppose I’m just as contented as any of you with 
your guessing,” returned Olive. 

Well I wish,” said Ernestine with an energy that 
brought instant attention, I wish papa was going to 
increase our allowances. Two dollars a month is a 
shameful little.” 

But it amounts to ten dollars when paid to five girls,” 
added Beatrice quickly, ‘‘ besides Jean’s twenty-five cents.” 

‘‘ A girl is n’t supposed to spend two dollars every 
month for foolishness,” said Olive severely. You might 
call it a little if you had to live on it.” 

I exist on my pretty things, almost as much as I 
do on my food,” answered Ernestine flippantly, ‘‘and 
what does two dollars buy? ” 

“ Suppose you go awhile without spending it, then you’ll 
have more,” suggested Kittie practically. 

“ Yes,” added Kat with a laugh. “ Kittie saved fifty 
cents last month, and I saved just three ; why don't you 
do as we do and economize.” 

“ How much have each of you saved altogether since 
papa began paying us?” asked Beatrice. “I have 
nine dollars and thirty-four cents.” 

“ Whew ! ” whistled Kittie. “ I’ve got just three. 1 
tell you caramels are disastrous to my pocket money.” 

“ I wear out my gloves, love butter-scotch, and lost my 


24 


SIX GIRLS. 


head over a certain pair of slippers; consequence, two 
dollars and eight cents in my treasury,*^ moaned Kat, with 
great self reproach. 

“ Well, I do everything that is frivolous, and unwise, 
and extravagant, but I have a good time, and the result is 
that I ha^e n’t a cent, and am in debt a dollar,” laughed 
Ernestine, kicking out her pretty foot with its fancy little 
slipper, as if in defiance to anyone’s criticisms or reproofs. 

Two more to hear from yet,” said Beatrice, as silence 
fell. ‘‘ Jeanie, have you spent all your quarters? ” 

“ No,” said Jean slowly and with much hesitation, I 
had two dollars and spent one for a sash.” 

“And I borrowed the other,” interrupted Ernestine, 
seeing that the child did not want to tell on her. “ How 
much have you, Olive?” 

“ I made no promise to tell,” leaped to Olive’s lips ; 
but instead of speaking it, she electrified them by saying, 
with a quiet smile of satisfaction, “ Thirty dollars.” 

It did more than surprise them ; it was almost a 
stun for a minute or two ; then Ernestine slowly opened 
her lips : “ Why, Olive Bering I wherever did you get it ? 
If you’d never spent a cent of your allowance, papa has n’t 
been paying us long enough for it to amount to that.” 

“ I suppose, for a girl that is n’t a fool, there are 
more ways of getting money, than sitting down with 
her hands folded and letting her father give k to her,” 
retorted Olive with a snap. 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


25 


“That’s so, Olive,” echoed Beatrice, with a heartiness 
that made them jump. “But what did you do? tell 
ns quick ; see every one of us stiff with curiosity.” 

It just occurred to Olive to let them remain stiff with 
curiosity, but perhaps an amount of satisfaction in 
the way she had earned her money is what changed 
her mind ; at any rate, she began more readily than 
the others expected : “I sold the old iron out in the 
barn, and several bags of rags ; then I’ve done some 
writing for papa’s clerk, because he was hurried ; and last 
week I sold my picture. Of my allowance I only spent 
enough for two pairs of gloves, that have lasted me with 
mending ; so that’s how I made my money.” 

“ Blessings on you ! ” cried Kat enthusiastically. “ I 

look upon you as a model, Olive, a living ” 

“ Nothing of the kind,” interrupted Olive sharply, and 
rising up out of her corner, as if warming to the subject. 

I’m only trying to be sensible ; we’re all old enough 
to be that, and be something more too. I wonder if we 
are never going to do anything but sit here at home, with 
papa to feed and dress us, besides giving us an allowance 
for little things and nonsense. I think it’s wrong, and 
lazy, and a namby pamby way of being a useless thing, 
just because you are a girl ! Besides, papa is worried and 
troubled ; yes he is ; — ” warming still more at the breath- 
less attention given her. “ Th^ other night, he and 
mama talked for hours, and I couldn’t help hearing 


SIX GIRLS. 


a little, because the transom was open. His voice was 
troubled, so was mama’s, and sad, and he said something 
about ‘ lessening expenses,’ and the difficulty of getting 
any ready money, and all that, and I believe in my heart 
that we ought to help him ! ” 

Into the stunned silence that followed this outburst 
from short-spoken, reticent Olive, there came a new 
voice ; such a sweet, lovely voice with a tender ring that 
made every one start to welcome the speaker. 

How dark you are, dears. Are all my steps here? ” 
All here, solemnly engaged,” answered Kat, unfolding 
herself from the big chair to make a seat for mother. 

^‘And think,” cried Kittie, with a lurch that pretty 

near tipped her out of the window. Olive ” 

Has done wonders,” interrupted Beatrice. Be still 
all of you ! Lets not tell mama yet.” 

Mrs. Bering laughed cheerily, at the sudden popping 
of a secret into the air, but announced that supper was 
ready, at which there was such a stampede as only a lot of 
hungry, healthy girls can make, and the sitting-room 
was left dark and still. 

You see there were six of them — five strong bright 
girls, and one little lame sister, to laugh and sing, and 
make that big, roomy, comfortable, old home happy. 
Beatrice, seventeen ; Ernestine, sixteen ; Olive, fifteen ; 
then Katherine and Kathleen or Kittie and Kat, twelve ; 
and lastly, little Jean, with her flower-like, patient face and 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


27 


poor crooked little back. To help and guide them, was 
the dear, loving mother who called them her ' steps ; * and 
the strong, helpful father, who romped and played, or 
read and studied with them and called Kittie and Kat ‘ his 
l^oys ; ’ Olive his ^ right hand man ; ’ Ernestine, ‘ his 
picture ; ’ Beatrice, his ‘ little woman,’ and Jean his ‘ little 
pansy.’ So now that you know them a little better, let us 
go into the dining-room aud see what they are doing. 
Meetings at the Dering table are always lively ones, 
‘‘ Good for digestion and spirits,” said papa Dering; so 
everybody talked and laughed and ate heartily, and went 
away without sour faces or sour stomachs. To-night, 
though, there is a change. Mr. Dering had a remark for 
each of the girls as they came in, then lapsed into silence, 
and stirred his coffee absently. Even Mrs. Defing could 
not hide a little anxiety, though she tried to be gay 
and interested in the girls’ talk, as usual. With Olive’s 
words fresh in their minds, the rest closely watched 
the faces of both parents, and each girl had thoughts and 
made plans, in every way characteristic of their respective 
selves. 

Mr. Dering presently broke a silence by asking to be 
excused, as he must go back to the store — two most 
unusual things ; for he always sat and talked at supper ’till 
all were through, and rarely ever let anything take him 
away from an evening at home ; so no wonder the meal 
was shortened, and the party broke up. 


28 


SIX GIRLS. 


Oh how nifce ! cried Jean, as they returned to the 
sitting-room, where in their absence, a bright fire had 
been built in the grate, and filled the room with a warm 
rosy glow. ‘‘ Here’s my seat.” 

‘‘ We’ll tell our secrets by the first fire of the season,” 
said Mrs. Bering, as the girls all followed Jean’s example, 
by pulling their chairs into the circle of warmth and light. 

I thought . it was so chilly this evening that fire-light 
would be more cosy and cheerful than a lamp. Now 
then, who shall begin? ” 

Oh you, please,” cried Kittie. We are so anxious.” 

Every face warmly seconded her words, so Mrs. Ber- 
ing began, after a moment’s silence. 

“ When you were all little children mama never let 
anything worry or disturb you if she could help it, and if 
anything ever did, you came right to her to be comforted 
and helped. Papa never let you be cold or hungry, and 
without clothes, or be sick, if he could help it, and they 
both loved you tenderly, did n’t they? ” 

Why goodness, yes ! ” cried Kat, with glistening, 
astonished eyes. 

And now that you have become such big daughters, 
they love you none the less, but more if possible ; because 
now they must give you more thought as you grow 

to womanhood. Now if ” 

Oh you need n’t say another word ! ” cried Beatrice 
impulsively. You look as if you did n’t know how 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


29 


to tell us ; but we know. Your secret is the same as 
ours ; papa is worried, and we are all, every one of 
us, ready to help him ! ” 

‘‘ Why my dear girls ! cried mama, with her eyes full 
of tears. “ How did you know? 

‘‘ Olive saw, and then heard the other night,” cried 
Kittie excitedly. She^s got thirty dollars already, and 
was giving us a regular lecture just before supper. Now^ 
I^m going to ” 

Wait a minute, dear,” said mama, laughing as she 
shook her finger. “ I knew Olive was saving her al- 
lowance, and that she had earned some money, and I was 
very much pleased ; but I am more than happy to find 
that she was doing it for papa.” 

To every one’s surprise, Olive grew scarlet and turned 
her face clear away from the light; but she brought 
it back in a minute, and said, with lips that tried to 
be stiff and firm — for praise was dear to Olive — “I 

did n’t do it for papa — I did n’t know then — I ” 

and then, sooner than cry, Olive stopped, and left them to 
think what they would. 

But you are willing for it to go to papa now,” finished 
Mrs. Dering, smiling brightly, and bringing some of the 
cloud from Olive’s eyes. That is just as noble, dear,’ ^ 
and with these skillfully thrown in words, mother smiled 
again, for only she understood her daughter’s peculiar 
disposition. 


30 


SIX GIRLS. 


When I was a girl,” went on Mrs. Dering, ‘‘ Grandpa 
was very wealthy, you know, and of course gave me 
every advantage. I took music from the most dis- 
tinguished professors, also painting and the languages, 
and at the age of eighteen, was handed over to society 
as finished in every way. I loved the gayeties that sur- 
rounded me, just as well as ever a girl could, but after a 
while, it struck me as being such an idle, aimless life, for 
a well educated, sensible girl to live, so I determined to 
make use of all that I had received. I had a small class 
in music, and one in painting and drawing ; some of them 
paid, and some, members of my Sunday-school class, did 
not. After that, I felt so much happier and more con- 
tented, and enjoyed all my fun so much more, so I de- 
cided that if ever I had any daughters, they should be 
fitted to be independent, whether it was ever necessary or 
not. I have never been able to supply you with masters 
as I was, but I have taught you thoroughly myself, and 
while I did not intend that you should begin quite so 
early, the time has come suddenly, when we must all help. 
So you, my older girls, I want you to choose as your 
choice lies, and fit yourselves so as to make it your stand- 
by, in this and other times of trouble.” 

Oh,” exclaimed Ernestine, with a sudden smile ; she 
had looked very much worried, for work or self-denial 
was distasteful, and yet it seemed so near. But now she 
smiled and nodded brightly. “ I know what I will do. 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


31 


mama. I’ll go on cultivating my voice and work hard, 
so that I may take a position in some city church, where 
everything is so elegant and prima-donnas get such 
immense salaries. 

‘^Yes, dear, music is unmistakably your talent,” said 
Mrs. Dering, and if they had only noticed it, she did not 
smile, and her eyes, fixed on the fire, were tinged with 
deep sadness for a moment. Cultivate your voice, and 
your fingers too ; for the positions as prima-donnas are 
sometimes lacking, then you have a little class to fall 
back on.” 

When no one was looking, Ernestine gave her head a 
decided little shake. It would be altogether touching and 
delightful, to stand up in a choir before a beautiful congre- 
gation, with a pale lily in your hat, the sunlight through a 
stained glass falling all around, and sing something pa- 
thetic, that would make people cry, and then have every- 
one say : “ Such a noble young girl, she does it to help 
her father.” But a class ! A lot of little children to talk 
to, and teach, no one to ever see, or compliment ; — no ! 
Ernestine would never cultivate her fingers ; that was sure. 

I’m a sort of jack at all trades,” said Beatrice break- 
ing a thoughtful pause with a little sigh. “ I play a little, 
sing a little, draw a little, but I’ve no talent for either, or 
anything else.” 

‘‘I know some one who is very fond of books and 
children,” said Mrs. Dering, with a suggestive smile. 


32 


SIX GIRLS. 


Oh ! to be sure,” cried Beatrice, brightening. Teach,, 
so I could. Well now, I’ll go right on, harder than ever 
with my studies, and work up the French ; I never can get 
German ;I have n’t the necessary twist to my tongue.” 

Olive was studying the fire with an intense dreamy gaze,. 
She did not say what she would do, but every one knew,, 
or at least supposed they knew. Olive’s talent lay in her 
pencil. Such wonderful pictures as she could rapidly 
sketch, when the different moods took her ! 

‘‘ Well, I should like to know,” cried Kittie abruptly,. 

What will Kat and I do? We have n’t got a shadow of a. 
talent of any kind, and don’t really know how to behave 
ourselves yet ; why, mama ,” 

I have you all fixed, dear,” interrupted mama. Just 
wait a minute.” 

There isn’t anything that I can do either,” said Jean,, 
with a pathetic little smile. ^‘But I will give up my 
quarter every month ; perhaps that will help papa a very 
little bit.” 

That’s it, Jeanie,” cried Kat, with a startling sudden- 
ness. We’ll do it too, Kittie, and that will make four 
dollars and a quarter less for papa to hand over every 
month. Second the motion. Kiltie? ” 

Done ! ” echoed Kittie, and every body had*a heartjr 
laugh as the twins shook hands violently over the table. 

But, mama,” said Olive’s quiet voice, breaking in upon? 
the racket. You say papa is worried now, and yet what 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


3a 


the girls have decided to do, they can only do when they 
have fitted themselves for it ; can’t we do anything to help 
right away?” 

‘‘Quite right, dear,” answered Mrs. Dering. “You 
can all help right away ; though in a way that papa will 
strongly object to, for he does not like to deprive home 
of any pleasures, or little luxuries that he can afford. But 
we will go ahead and make our plans and take him by 
storm. First, there is the horse and carriage ; it will seem 
hard and strange for a while without it, but it is a great 
expense, together with Jack’s wages. Papa has an op- 
portunity of selling the buggy, and Mr. Phillips will take 
‘Prince’ until we can afford to keep him again. Are you 
willing?” 

“Yes, mama,” in a rather feeble chorus, with Ernes- 
tine’s voice lacking. ‘Prince’ was such a pet — O dear ! 

“ And then, Lizzie,” continued Mrs. Dering, apparently 
not noticing the way all faces were going down. “ We can 
get along with one girl, if we all make up our minds to 
work. The house is large and it will take all of our hands 
to do the necessary cleaning ; but we can, can’t we ? ” 

“ Yes, mama.” A little more energy this time. Only 
Ernestine sighed dolefully, and laid her hands out on her 
lap. Such slim little hands and so white. It was per- 
fectly horrible to be poor and have to go to work ; yes it 
was, and she privately resolved to shirk just as much as 
possible. 


3 


u 


SIX GIRLS. 


They had a long evening’s talk over the coming change, 
and how they were going to do, but at ten o’clock, as 
Mr. Dering was still absent, they separated for the night, 
and mama carried sleepy little Jean off to bed in her 
arms. 

Beatrice and Ernestine roomed together in the front 
room, the twins in one next, and Olive alone across the 
hall. Generally, while getting ready for bed, the doors 
were left open, and a merry conversation carried on ; but 
to-night, they were full of thought, and had not much to 
say, so everything settled into quiet very soon after the 
‘^good nights” had been spoken. 

In the front room, the girls were wakeful. Beatrice, as 
the oldest sister, felt, in her quiet thoughtful way, that 
perhaps, the way she did in the coming change, would act 
as an example to the others ; and that an extra duty 
rested on her, to be as patient and willing as possible, in 
whatever might be necessary for them to do, and to be all 
to mother, that an elder daughter should be, in time of 
trouble. Ernestine was also deep in thought, and had 
twisted her pillow into such a position, that the moon- 
light made quite a halo around her yellow hair and made 
her face, with its beautiful eyes, look like a cameo in 
golden setting. She knew it, too, just as well as Beatrice, 
who at that moment, turned and looked at her, and 
furthermore, she knew just how to go on with what she 
wanted to accomplish. 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


35 


Bea/^ she said, with her voice dropped to its sweetest, 
‘‘I want you to do something for me.” 

‘‘What?” 

“ You said you had nine dollars, will you loan me five ? ” 

“ How? I was going to give it to papa to-morrow.” 

“You know he wouldn’t take it,” began Ernestine, im- 
patiently; then smoothed her voice carefully again, and 
went on : “ Papa won’t have us give up everything, Bea. 

We are all willing to lessen expenses at home, but we are 
not to scrimp and pinch ourselves all to pieces. I’ll pay 
you back just as soon as ” 

“ It isn’t that,” interrupted Bea, “But I don’t see how 
you can want to spend it now.” 

“But I do ; there are the loveliest lace scarfs ” 

“ Lace scarfs cried Bea again, in shocked surprise. 
“Would you, Ernestine? — Five dollars?” 

“ Certainly ! Since we’ve made my old black silk over, 
it looks so nice, and I’ve nothing fit to wear around my 
neck. I’m sure its not much and I’m going to work this 
winter, am I not?” 

Bea turned her pillow over and laid her head down 
thoughtfully. Was Ernestine selfish, or had she much 
heart? The question had often come silently up, and 
been put as silently down, but now it lingered persistently, 
though Bea moved her head restlessly, as if to get rid of it. 
If Ernestine wanted anything, she left no avenue untried, 
and got it if possible, no matter at whose expense or self- 


36 


SIX GIRLS. 


denial. All through fifteen years of her life, she had kept 
a clear unfaltering eye on herself, her wants, and her wel- 
fare, and after they were all supplied, she was ready and 
willing to help any one else ; but no one must ever ask, or 
expect it at the expense of her personal comfort or plenty. 
Yet with her candies, the girls had lion shares ; her pretty 
things, — and somehow all of Ernestine’s things were so 
pretty and graceful, — she loaned willingly, and was never 
too tired or unwilling to help the girls’ dress on great 
occasions ; for though Olive was the artist, Ernestine had 
the artist’s quick eye for graceful draping, harmony of 
colors, and picturesque structures of hair. Moreover, she 
was always good natured, nothing ever ruffled her, except 
for a passing moment, and any hour of the day, you might 
hear her voice, just like a bird’s, filling the house with 
music, while her lovely face made sunshine ; so it came, 
that she received the credit for making home happy, when 
she did it with no such intention, or exertion, only be- 
cause she loved to sing, and it was perfectly natural for 
her to be gay and untouched by anything. 

I’m sure,” she said, speaking suddenly, as Bea gave a 
restless twist to her head. You needn’t, if you don’t 

want to, Bea. Perhaps you want to buy ” 

^'You know better,” cried Bea, flying up from her 
rumpled pillow. I don’t want to buy anything, and if 
you want to spend five dollars for a lace scarf, why you’re 
welcome lo my money. That’s all. Good night.” 


AROUND THE FIRE. 


37 


Next Sunday, when the girls went to church, Ernestine 
wore a cob-webby scarf of ivory white over her “ made- 
over” silk, and put a creamy day lily in her yellow hair, 
and the girls looking at her, silently thought: ^‘No 
wonder papa calls her his picture !” 


CHAPTER III. 

A FOUNDATION THAT BROUGHT KAT TO GRIEF. 

Slam! went the gate, knocking the dead leaves right 
and left, and whiz ! went two girls up the walk, like un- 
ruly sky-rockets, with the odd ends flying. Rattle-de-tap, 
went four feet with steel-capped heels over the old shady 
porch, and bang I went the door back against the wall ; 

then : 

‘‘Mama, ” 

“Bea,— Er, ” 

“ Nestine, Olive, ” 

“ Jean, hurry ; — let me tell first. Miss ” 

“ I beat to the steps, I ought to tell,” shrieked Kat, as 
Kittie choked for breath. “ Miss Howard is going to give 


“Nutting party!” shouted Kittie, with a triumphant 
breath. “ Hurrah, three cheer-r-s 1 ” 

“ Mercy on me,” cried a voice from up stairs. “ What 
is the matter ; what are you doing? ” 

“ Kittie ’s dancing a jig, and Kat's sliding down the 
bannisters,” exclaimed a horrified voice from somewhere 
else. “ Mercy I Bea, call mama ; I think they’ve gone 
crazy ’ 


KAT BROUGHT TO GRIEF. 


3& 

Nutting party,” cried Kittie, dancing furiously and 
nodding her head like a demented monkey. To-mor- 
row, want to go ? ” 

The girls had all collected by this time around the 
boisterous pair, and Bea flapped her sewing warningly, as 
Kat came whizzing down the bannisters for a final time, 
and landed with a dexterous jump, into the middle of the 
group. 

I’m going down town,” said Ernestine, after hearing 
of the near and great event. I can’t go.” 

** Of course not,” said Kittie, with great scorn. “You’d 
rather go down town, and be all the afternoon buying a 
shoe string, than get a Saratoga trunk full of nuts ; but 
you’ll want some of mine this winter.” 

Olive was busy on a picture, Bea had some sewing, so 
the twins must represent the Bering family, and accepted 
the matter quite blissfully, to judge from the way they 
raced off for parts unknown, and remained absent for some 
time, as if strange and wonderful preparations were neces- 
sary, and being undergone for to-morrow. They came 
back when the tea-bell rang, at least Kittie did, slowly 
and solemnly through the back yard, and lingered several 
minutes on the porch, with many mysterious signals to 
some one, down where the long yard sloped to the pond, 
and a fringe of willows shaded the water. 

“ Where’s Kathy,” inquired Ernestine, who strongly 
objected to the extremely abbreviated form of ‘ Kat.’ 


40 


SIX GIRLS. 


“ Down to the pond, she’s coming answered Kittie, 
with a strangely worried look ; but Ernestine flitted by 
without noticing it, and pretty soon Kittie quit leaning 
over the lattice and went in slowly. 

Just as Mrs. Dering was leaving her room to go 
down to tea, she heard a peculiarly suspicious noise 
'Out in the back hall, unmistakably the careful open- 
ing of a window, as of some one on the low roof 
without, and pausing to listen, Mrs. Dering became 
■convinced, that some one was surely making entrance, 
to the house in that questionable manner. A mid- 
night^ burglary was a rare occurrence in Canfield, but one 
in the early fall of evening, was beyond imagination, and 
yet Mrs. Dering was conscious of a little trepidation, as 
she tiptoed her way round to the back hall, and fancy 
pictured a man, with sly intent, coming over the window- 
sill. Whoever the intruder was, he was working with 
great care, and wholly unconscious of any one’s approach, 
for when Mrs. Dering reached the corner and peeped 
around, the intruding head was just leveled, and coming 
through, carefully followed by a nimble body, but not 
clothed in the habiliments usually donned by burglars ; 
instead, there appeared a blue calico much drenched and 
ornamented with wet weeds, an apron wholly unrecogniz- 
able as to color or design, and a drabbled hat hanging to 
the intruder’s neck. As this queer apparition landed on 
the floor, Mrs. Dering stepped around the corner, where- 


KAT BROUGHT TO GRIEF. 


41 


upon the bold burglar jumped and screamed faintly, and 
the lady laughed, though she said with grave inquiry : 

Why Kathleen ! what does this mean?’’ 

‘Oh, mama ! ’’gasped the burglar, with a despairing glance 
at her dripping self. ‘‘ I didn’t want you to see me.” 

“ Nor any one else, from the way you came in I should 
think. What is the matter?” 

Kat grasped her wet hat, and looked desperately sorry 
and resigned all at once. 

“Why, I went out in the boat,” she said, twisting the 
wet ribbons around her fingers and dropping her eyes to 
the floor, with a little flush of shame, “and it upset, and I 
had to wade in, but I couldn’t get it, and it’s sailing 
upside down, way out in the pond. I don’t know what- 
ever you’d better do to me, I’m sure.” 

“ Disobeyed papa. O Kathleen ! ” 

“Well I did’nt mean — ,” there Kat stopped, and 
swallowed several times very hastily; she would rather 
have been shaken, than to have heard that grieved tone. 
“ I was only going to ride a little ways, but the wind blew 
me out ; I know it was wrong, though, cause papa said, 
not to touch it.” 

“Go to your room and get off your wet clothes as 
quickly as possible, and after supper I will come and talk 
to you about it,” said Mrs. Dering, turning away to hide 
the smile, that poor, dripping, shame-faced Kat could not 
but provoke. 


42 


SIX GIRLS. 


The announcement that '"Water-Rat” was face down 
out in the pond, caused dire dismay at the supper-table, 
so that when the meal was finished, and Mrs. Dering 
went up to talk to repentant Kat, the rest of the family 
all hurried down to the pond to view the disaster. There 
was the gayly painted boat, floating idly back and forth 
with the wind, out in the pond, and the girls expressed 
their great dismay in a dismal chorus of "Oh's,” long 
prolonged, as it floated farther away. " Never mind,” 
said papa Dering, briskly. " We'll get her all safe again, 
a little bath won’t hurt her. Here Kittie, you’re the best 
runner, go to the house and bring me the largest hammer 
and longest nails in the tool-chest. Be quick now.” 
Kittie was off like a flash, and when she came back, 
there were three or four logs lying ready for use, with 
some planks and a long pole, and Mr. Dering with coat 
off, fell to work with a will and such speed, that in ten 
minutes, a small raft lay in the water, and Mr. Dering 
was making preparations for his voyage, by pulling off 
his boots and tucking his pants up. 

" You don’t suppose you could get drowned, do you 
papa,” questioned Jean, somewhat overcome with these 
unusual proceedings, and clinging to her seat in a low 
willow with some trepidation. 

" Not much, little one. I guess if Katty can wade out 
of this water, papa can, providing he’s tipped in. Now 
good-bye, girls. Wish me well.” 


KAT BROUGHT TO GRIEF. 


43 


Kittie in the willow, and Bea and Ernestine on a log, 
gave three parting cheers with such force, that Kat, crying 
forlornly up in her room, ran to the window to see the 
fun, and watched with great interest the rescue of the 
‘'Water Rat,” which Mr. Bering effected with great skill 
and many flourishes, to the delight of his audience. 
After being pulled out on the grass, face up again to dry, 
the rescued “Rat” was left to the twilight, while the 
party returned to the house. 

The new arrangements had been in hand about a week, 
and so far, the girls were delighted and enthusiastic over 
“helping,” though they did miss “ Prince” and the buggy 
very much. As Mrs. Bering had said, papa decidedly 
objected to any such arrangements and privations, but 
one man against seven determined women! — oh, my 1 
just think of it I So they had their way, and it was such 
a comfort to see, that already he began to look a little 
less worried and anxious when out of the store. 

That night, when the girls went to bed, Kat was very 
much subdued, and kept her face quite persistently out 
of sight. Kittie administered comfort in broken and 
complete doses, but without much eflect, for just now, 
when under the new enthusiasm, every one was doing her 
best in all ways, Kat felt her disgrace, more deeply than 
was customary for her, who fell into it, and out again 
pretty nearly every day, and so she refused to be com- 
forted. Perhaps there was another reason for the com- 


44 


SIX GIRLS. 


plete and deep contrition. At any rate, she whispered to 
Kittie with a choke, that fought against being a sob, — 
just before they went to sleep : ‘‘Oh, Kittie ! — I can’t go 
— go, nutting !” 

Sure enough. Kat ate her breakfast with red eyes and 
a poor appetite the next morning, while the sun shone, as 
it surely never did before, and Kittie gayly laughed and 
chatted, but trying to be not too happy, as was consistent 
with the deep sympathy felt and expressed for suffering 
Kat, who had vanished beyond the power of sight or 
search, when at eight o’clock, a merry party halted at the 
gate, and the home girls, gayly escorted Kittie and her 
baskets down the walk. 

That was a dismal morning to be sure. Kat did her 
portion of the work before any of the other girls came up 
stairs, and no one saw her again that morning, for with a 
volume of history, ^‘St. Elmo,” and six apples, she de- 
parted for the back roof, where she sat down and cried 
as hard as ever she could for five minutes, then opened 
the history, and took a fierce bite out of the biggest 
apple. 

‘‘ There, I won’t cry another tear, it’s a blessing that I 
wasn’t shut up for the day, instead of being allowed to 
roam around, when I can’t let things alone that I’m told 
to. I’m going to learn a chapter of this history, now, be- 
fore I read a word of St. Elmo,” though I don’t see the 
use. Whatever do I care about the Edwards' and 


KAT BROUGHT TO GRIEF. 


45 


Henrys^ and all that!” And then Kat shook herself, 
opened her book, and valiantly attacked Henry the Fifth, 
with every possible intention of doing just exactly what 
she said; but in about ten minutes a little puff of wind 
sailed across the roof, tossed open the cover of ^‘St. Elmo,” 
fluttered the leaves, then flew away, leaving them open, 
just where Edna goes to the old church for the last time, 
and Kat’s eyes strayed right down to the tempting words^ 
and somehow they did not come back at once. 

That old roof was just like all the rest of the house, 
roomy, shady and cool. The flourishing top of a huge 
apple-tree reached over one side of it, with tempting seats 
in its boughs, and on another side, was the wide roomy 
window, with its worn sill, that led into the garret of the 
main part of the house. Solid comfort had it always 
been to the girls, and sometimes on warm Sunday after- 
noons, all the family might be found, distributed over its 
flat, roomy surface, with old comforts and pillows, and a 
good supply of books and fans. 

Crash ! went something suddenly and away sailed '^ St. 
Elmo,” to bump his villainously fascinating head against 
the chimney, while Kat jerked her history open again and 
heard the profoundest and most melancholy sigh. 

** What^s the use 1 ^ Henry the Fifth was born,’ — I 

wonder who cares, dear me, I wish Kittie was here 1 
‘Was bom on ’” — But, as if in answer to that wish so 
heartily uttered, there came two arms around her neck, 


46 


SIX GIRLS. 


and there was Kittie, laughing gayly as she nodded her 
head. 

I just wonder if you thought I would go to a nutting 
party, when you couldn’t, she exclaimed. guess I 
haven’t forgotten who was whipped in school the other 
day to save me. Bless me ! Studying history ! ” 

'‘Why, Kittie Bering ! ” was all the answer, she received 
from astonished Kat, “ Didn’t you go ! ” 

" Looks as if I didn’t, don’t it?” 

" And just for me?” 

“ Just for you ! ” 

Thereupon, Bea, who was watching at the window, 
went down stairs, and reported that Kittie and Kat were 
having a "love feast” out on the roof. 

That afternoon, amusements flagged. It was unusually 
warm for so late in the year, and Kat stretched lazily out 
on a bench, under the trees, while Kittie sat on the grass, 
and enjoyed herself pleasantly with nothing. "I tell 
you,” exclaimed the latter, with a hearty jump, occasioned 
partly, by a new idea, partly by the sight of a huge spider, 
that was lumbering over the grass towards her. "Let’s 
go over to the new church.” 

" What for?” 

" Walk on the foundation ; it’s all finished and splendid 
to race on all the way round.” 

"Jolly idea,” cried Kat, jumping from her bench, for- 
getting a previous assertion, that it was, "too hot to 


KAT BROUGHT TO GRIEF. 


47 


move ! ” and away they went, down the walk, at the usual 
break-neck speed taken by them, when in a hurry ; Kittle 
rushing through the gate, while Kat nimbly cleared the 
fence. 

Nobody was around to see, or be horrified, for it was 
on the edge of town, and anyhow, it seemed utterly im- 
possible to convince these girls that they were nearly 
thirteen years^ old, and ought to stop being such hoydens. 
Bea’s little cautions, Ernestine’s careful talks and exam- 
ples of grace and dignity, Olive’s open ridicule, and Jean’s 
childish wonder, were all set aside, by a quiet smile from 
mama, or papa’s hearty exclamation of — let them alone 
— they’re the only boys I’ve got.” So Kittle and Kat 
romped to their heart’s content, while mama took care 
that it did not make them too rude, and mended their 
torn clothes, with a patient smile, sometimes saying to 
herself : Never mind, it makes them happy and strong ; 

so, as long as I am well, and have the time, I’ll not com- 
plain of a few rips and tears.” 

The new church, was only around the corner in a large 
green field, and the foundation, broad, and not too high, 
was a tempting place to run ; so they clambered up, and 
raced back and forth, and all around^, several times, ’till 
out of breath, then Kat paused, and looked about with a 
contemplative and venturesome air. 

See here. Kittle, I’m going to walk across that narrow 
wall, where they have n't finished.” 


48 


SIX GIRLS. 


Pretty high ; you'd better not replied Kittie, mea- 
suring the proposed walk with a careful eye. ‘^How 
will you get up ? ” 

Climb ; it's only a step or two higher than this." 

Kittie leisurely followed the more adventuresome twin, 
and called out suddenly : “ Kat, there's an immense 

mud-hole at one side ; looks as if it might be deep too ; 
better hold on." 

Huarah ! " shouted Kat, in answer, as she balanced 
herself on the top of the narrow wall. ‘‘ Here I go ! " 
And there she did go, sure enough, for turning to nod 
triumphantly at Kittie, away went her balance, and after 
two or three of the wildest, most fearful struggles, down 
came Kat, head and heels right into the mud- hole. 

‘‘ Oh, my goodness, — ha, ha, — my gracious ; Oh-h ! 
Kat Bering ! " shrieked Kittie, dancing wildly up and 
down. ‘‘Oh, Kat, if I ever — what a — a sight! Oh — 
my ! " and away went Kittie in another shriek, that 
pretty nearly knocked her off the wall, and even made 
Kat smile while the tears trickled down her muddy 
cheeks. 

“ I'm sunk clear to my knees," she cried despondently. 
“And my wrist feels so funny ; Kittie, come, help me." 

Kittie jumped down in a hurry ; examined the limp 
and already swelling wrist with anxious gravity, and then 
nearly strangled with laughter when, after several vigorous 
tugs and struggles, Kat came out of the mud, leaving 


KAT BROUGHT TO GRIEF. 

both her slippers hopelessly buried, and her clothes 
so heavy she could hardly walk. 

‘‘Oh, Kittie ! what shall I do,** she cried, giving up 
entirely, between the sharp pain in her wrist, and the 
speedy arrival of this second disgrace. “ It*s only 
yesterday, that I crawled into the house in this fix; I 
can*t go again.** 

“ Never mind ; 1*11 go,** said Kittie, lost in sympathy. 
“ Everybody is in the front part of the house, and I’ll 
slip in the back way, go in over the roof, and bring 
you some clothes. Just sit down here and wait; I’ll 
hurry, and it *11 be all right.** 

So Kat sat down, quite pale with the painful wrist, and 
meditated, in a desperate fashion, on her inability to 
keep out of trouble and mischief ; But Kittie was back in 
an incredibly short space of time, all flushed and panting, 
and with a little bundle of clothes tucked under her arm. 

“ Here Kat is a skirt, and dress, and stockings, and my 
slippers,” she cried, running inside the wall where Kat sat 
forlornly. 

“ No one saw me ; here hurry. How *s your wrist? ” 

“ Hurts,” said Kat briefly, finding tears inclined to 
obstruct her utterance ; and then they were silent, while 
the muddy garments were hastily laid aside and the 
dry ones slipped on ; and the two started round -a-bouts for 
home. 

A little while later, Kittie appeared at the sitting-room 


60 


SIX GIRLS. 


door, where the girls were sewing with mother, while 
Ernestine trilled and warbled at the piano. Mrs. Dering 
came out to the hall in answer to Kittie^s beckon, and 
received this somewhat incoherent report : 

Kat’s upstairs ; we walked the foundation, and she 
fell off the high part ; I took her some clothes, but I 
don’t know what she’s done to her wrist ; ” and Mrs. 
Dering did not waste any time trying to get a straighter 
report, but hurried up stairs, where Kat was lying on the 
bed, moaning and trying not to cry, with the painfully 
swollen wrist, laid out on a pillow. Twenty minutes’ 
later the doctor was there with splints and bandages, and 
Kat, looking into his eyes with a vague alarm, asked, aftei 
he had examined it : How long before I can use it ? ” 
^^Many weeks, Kathleen.” 

^‘Why, is it badly sprained?” 

Worse, I think, my dear little girl, for it is pretty 
badly broken.” 


• V 


CHAPTER IV. 

IN CONFIDENCE. 

Olive’s door was locked. 

Jean saw her go in, and heard the bolt slide 
swiftly across after the door shut, and just tlie 
glimpse that the little girl had of her sister’s face, 
showed tears on the sallow cheeks, and hanging 
to the lashes. Olive was bitterly opposed to having 
any one know that she cried, and above all things to 
have any one see her employed in that manner; she 
herself, could not have told why perhaps, except that 
she did not want it. All of her feelings were so carefully 
hidden, and herself so wrapped in a cloak of reserve, that 
the surface was as delicately sensitive, as gossamer, and 
at every touch that left its impress, she retired farther 
within herself, and left less room for touch of any kind. 
Now, when she caught a glimpse of Jean’s face, she shut 
the door sharper than was necessary, and going over 
to the window, sat down and stared moodily off into the 
yard, where the scarlet tops of the maples nodded to 
a golden, glowing sky. Surprised and curious, Jean 
lingered a moment, with her hand on the bannister, 


52 


SIX GIRLS. 


surveying the door thoughtfully, then limped carefully 
across, and knocked softly. 

Who is it? came tartly from within. 

Me, Olive. Are you sick? ” 

Jean turned away a little hurt. Why need Olive speak 
so shortly?’* she wondered, with the usual afterthought. 
“Bea, never does, or the others.” 

Olive listened to the little crutch going slowly down 
stairs, and waited until everything was quiet, then she 
went over to a small trunk and sat down before it, lifted 
the lid, and supporting her chin in her hand, looked 
steadily into it, all the moody bitterness in her eyes 
changing slowly to a sadness that was almost despair. 

** Oh, I don’t see why it is ! ” she cried suddenly, laying 
her head down on the trunk’s sharp edge, and breaking 
into a passionate sobbing, all the stronger for having 
been long denied. I surely try, but, they are unkind ; 
they are, I know.” And then the thick sobs broke vehe- 
mently forth, and echoed out into the quiet hall; but 
Olive was alone upstairs, and she knew it; besides, I 
doubt if she could have controlled herself now, even had 
the whole of the amazed family confronted her. Poor, 
sensitive, unfortunate Olive ; was it her fault wholly, that 
her sisters seemed able to be happy, quite regardless 
of her, and that she seemed to fill no place in home 
except as ‘‘that queer, homely Olive,” as she had once 


IN CONFIDENCE. 


53 


heard herself called? This afternoon, the girls had all 
dressed gayly, and gone for a ride behind Prince with 
Mr. Phillips. He had said, all the girls,” when asking 
for them, but Olive so seldom joined in any of their little 
gayeties outside of home, that it really seemed strange 
and out of place for her to go with them ; so she waited, 
when the time came to dress, wondering, and half hoping 
that one of them would express a little desire that she 
should go. Such a thought, however, occurred to no 
one ; for so many times had she flatly refused to go, that 
they had all gradually ceased asking, supposing that 
she would do as she pleased. Once, to be sure, Bea did 
run up to the arbor, seeing her there, with the question 
on her lips, but Olive saw her coming, and fearing 
that the new desire and expectation would show in 
her face, bent her eyes to her book, quite unconscious of 
the heavy scowl on her brow ; so, after one glance, Bea 
withdrew in a hurry, remembering frequent complaints for 
disturbance. At the hasty disappearance, Olive looked 
up with a bitter little smile, that would have instantly 
disclosed to an observer, how she was construing the act, 
and how she was hurt in spite of herself. 

‘‘ There ! she was afraid she’d have to ask me some- 
thing about it, if she came in, so she got out in a 
hurry. But they need n’t worry ; I’ll not force myself in ; 
I’m queer, and ugly, and had better stay by myself ; ” and 
with that, Olive shut her lips fiercely tight, and did 


54 


SIX GIRLS. 


not once lift her eyes, when, a little while later, they 
all went laughing down the walk, never heeding her, 
or once regretting her absence. It often happened 
. so now, and Olive missed the coaxings with which they 
had once tried to draw her out, never once dreaming that 
she had done away with them herself, by shortly, tersely, 
and repeatedly asking, to ‘‘be let alone. 

No, this never occurred to her, as she sat there crying 
bitterly, but her broken words revealed the track of her 
thoughts. 

“ They never let Ernestine stay home ! Indeed 
not, and there’s the greatest commotion raised if she 
speaks of such a thing. She’s pretty and graceful, and 
loves to dress up like a doll, while I’m ugly, and awkward, 
and always do things wrong, and disgrace them, I 
suppose. I don’t see what I’m crying for, I’m sure. 
I can be happy without them as well as they without me ! ” 
and Olive raised her head defiantly, and flung the tears 
from her lashes, for having cried ; the burden seemed 
lighter, and the little hurt and loneliness less hard. “ I’ve 
plenty to think of besides them, and I might as well 
go to work.” So out of the trunk came a box, and Olive’s 
tears were as quickly gone as they had come. This 
box held a collection of sketches, many of them originals, 
some of them copies, but all bearing marks of a strong 
talent, rude and somewhat hasty as yet, but capable 
of much, when the young artist should have studied, and 


IN CONFIDENCE. 


65 


brought a few happy ideas to color the faces and scenes 
that grew from under her fingers. Now they clearly 
betrayed the unhappy spirit that prompted them, for there 
was not one glad sunshiny picture among them ; instead, 
there were several faces of women, in various attitudes of 
defiance or despair, with a stern relentless sorrow darken- 
ing their eyes, and hardening their lips ; then there was 
an old boat over-turned in the shadow of a half-broken 
tree, and various sketches of home scenery from the 
different windows of the house. Olive had selected one, 
somewhat larger than the rest, and had gone to work 
rapidly, pressing her lips tightly in the earnestness of her 
work and thoughts, and the room was perfectly silent 
for a long time. Presently she stopped abruptly, and 
balancing her pencil on her finger, looked out of the 
window with a troubled longing in her eyes. 

I wonder if I ever can,’^ she murmured slowly. 
‘‘ How hard it is to be patient, and wait, it’s three months 
yet until I am sixteen, and they never will let me I know, 
because it’s too dangerous for a girl. I’m sorry I am one 
anyhow ; it makes everything go wrong. Now, there’s 
my money, I’m glad I’ve got it to give to papa. Dear 
papa, I don’t believe he or mama cares because I’m 
so ugly ; I’ll give it to him to-night, and then while 
I’m waiting. I’ll work and earn some more, so as to 
have enough and, after ending this slightly enigmat- 
ical speech with an abrupt nod, OKve looked a little 


56 


SIX GIRLS. 


brighter and fell to work so rapidly, that she shaded a 
dimple until it looked like a bullet-hole in the cheek of 
her fair subject. 

Nothing further was heard for over an hour, then there 
came chattering voices, the slam of the gate, much 
laughter, and much spattering and crunching of gravel, 
that announced a race up the walk, between the festive 
twins, for though Kat’s disabled arm swung gracefully in a 
sling, she had, after the first day or two, returned to all 
her romping with undiminished ardor, thereby keeping the 
family in constant terror, lest the necessary appendage be 
forever disabled. Jean had reported to Bea, the fact that 
Olive had locked her door and was crying, and with her 
conscience reproving her, Bea ran hastily up stairs, and 
knocked at the door. Olive, may I come in? ” 

What for?” 

Well, just to talk a little,” Bea replied, knowing better 
than to give Jean’s report. 

Olive unlocked the door, after having first surveyed her 
face to see that no tears were visible. 

‘‘ Come in, if you want to ; I’m drawing,” and Bea ac- 
cepted the ungracious invitation, thinking to herself, as 
Olive straightway took her seat and pencil, and returned 
to work — 

“Now Olive’s in one bf her moods, I wonder if I can 
say anything,” for though not yet seventeen, Bea was 
womanly and thoughtful, and Mrs. Bering had sometimes 


IN CONFIDENCE. 


57 


talked with her, about the unfortunate peculiarities of this 
sister’s disposition, and asked her help in being patient, 
and trying to overcome it. 

We had a delightful time,” began Bea, anxious to 
work aright. ‘ Prince ’ was such a dear old fellow and 
Mr. Phillips so kind. I’m so sorry you didn’t go, Olive.” 

Nothing but pride kept Olive’s face from brightening a 
little at this ; she turned away, made a fierce dab at her 
subject’s nose, and thought grimly : — “ It’s all very well to 
be sorry now, when the thing’s all over ; I wonder if she 
thinks that I believe she’s sorry, anyhow.” 

“We went around by the river, and way up on the 
hill,” continued Bea, after waiting a reasonable length of 
time for an answer. “Mr. Phillips says we may ride 
often.” 

“Did he?” 

“Yes, wasn’t it kind? you know Mrs. Phillips and the 
girls are going away and ‘ Prince ’ will need exercising.” 

“ Of course.” 

“ Hasn’t mama come home yet?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“Perhaps Mrs. Dane is worse.” 

No answer. 

“ It’s almost supper time, I should think she would be 
here,” and with that, Bea got up, somewhat discouraged 
with the one-sided conversation ; but paused again at 
Olive’s side. 


58 


SIX GIRLS. 


Oh ! what a lovely face/’ she exclaimed, bending over 
the artist’s shoulder. “ Where did you get it, Olive?” 

Made it up.” 

Well, I really envy you such a talent ; I have none at 
all. Why do you make her look so sad?” 

^‘That’s the way she looked to my mind and I draw 
her so. Perhaps it’s because she has no sisters,” an- 
swered Olive, spoiling the m.eaning conveyed in the 
words by the sarcasm that crept into the voice, and Bea 
drew back, hurt and half inclined to be angry ; but with 
her, a tender heart always went ahead of a quiet temper 
and ruled, so she walked to the door, saying as she went 
out : “You better put up your things ; supper’s most 
ready.” 

After tea Olive whispered something to Mr. Bering, 
and to everyone’s curiosity, they went off together to the 
library. This was only a small room, but very cozy, with 
a dark green carpet on the floor, the chairs of various 
shapes, with the previous covering worn threadbare, 
neatly covered with green cloth, a cover of like shade on 
the table, and one side of the wall well packed with 
books ; for Mr. Bering having never been wealthy, had 
only by care, and much time, collected the books which 
now formed a faultless, small library. It was Ernestine’s 
idea, having the room green, and bestowing upon it the 
important sounding name of “library,” for it suited her 
fancy by sounding stylish, and pleased her artistic eye by 


IN CONFIDENCE. 


59 


being all of one shade ; so after much patient drilling, she 
got them all to call it 'library,” excepting Olive, for that 
sister, disapproving of Ernestine’s notions in general, did 
not like to yield to this one, and insisted on calling it 
‘‘study.” 

Well, in here came Mr. Dering, Olive following with a 
light, saying, as she placed it on the table : 

“ Papa, this is to be a secret.” 

“ Oh ! oh ! and you expect me to keep it ? ” 

“ Of course, at least a part of it,” and Olive looked so 
serious, as she came and stood by his chair, that he be- 
came attentive in an instant, saying heartily : — “ Well, go 
on dear, I’m listening, and promise to keep the secret.” 

Olive hesitated an instant, but she always hated to show 
any feeling, especially of embarrassment, so pitched into 
her subject abruptly, with her eyes down. “ You know, 
papa, that we know that you have been troubled with the 
hard times, and wanted to help you.” 

“ Yes, Olive, and I can never forget the way that my 
girls and their dear mother anticipated, and have done to 
help me.” 

“ No,” Olive answered, almost impatiently. “We have 
done nothing ; it most all falls on mama ; she helps us 
with the work, and as for ‘ Prince,’ of course, we loved 
him, but we girls are able to walk, it’s only mama, who is 
denied ; so all the help it is, she gives, not we.” 

“Then we should love her all the more, dear,” said 


60 


SIX GIRLS. 


Mr. Bering, and the tenderness and love that shone 
in his face would have gladdened the heart of the wife of 
thirty years, had she seen it. 

“ I don’t think we can ever love her enough,” answered 
Olive heartily; then hesitated again, while her hand 
went slowly into her pocket, and came slowly out again. 

Hold your hand, papa.” 

He did so, and after placing a little roll in it, and 
closing his fingers over it, she said hurriedly : ‘‘It 
is only a little, papa ; just thirty dollars that I have saved, 

but I want you to take it, and ” 

“ But Olive, my dear child ” 

“ Don’t, please ; ” she interrupted hastily. “ I know 
what you want to say, but it’s not denying me anything, 
and what if it was ? I want you to have it. You never 
gave us our allowance to buy our clothes with, and 
as for fancy things, I don’t care for them ; I don’t care 
to go out as the other girls do, and I do not need 
it for anything. I only wish it was more.” 

There may have been many reasons why Mr. Bering 
said nothing as he drew her on to his knee, and kissed her 
tenderly, but the right one would not have been hard to 
guess had any one seen his eyes full of tears. Olive’s 
heart was beating happily, and she went on quite gayly : 
“ And another thing, papa ; now don’t say anything until 
I finish ; I want to have all my own way to-night. You 
know, sometime ago I helped Mr. Hess with some writing, 


IN CONFIDENCE. 


61 


and he said that if I would draw his little girPs head, he 
would teach me how to keep books; well, he did, 
you know, and now I want you to dismiss him, and let me 
be your book-keeper. It would help you, and oh, I 
should love to- so much; it seems as if I wasn’t a 
bit of use the way I live now, with nothing in particular to 
do.»’ 

‘‘Why, my dear little girl,” cried Mr. Dering, as 
she paused for breath. “ Do you think they could spare 
you to me all day, down in that dusty old store ?” 

“ Oh, yes, indeed ! ” and into Olive’s brightened eyes 
crept a little of the old bitterness, as she recalled the 
afternoon. 

“And I’m to pay you ” 

“ Nothing of course, papa.” 

“No, my dear, I cannot consent to that.” 

“ Please ; I want to help you now. You may pay me 
when you are not troubled any more about business.” 

“ Ah, yes ; when ! ” said Mr. Dering sadly to himself. 

“ Papa,” Olive put an arm about his neck. “ Is it so 
bad as that? I’m not sixteen yet, but oh, I feel so much 
older, I can understand if you tell me.” 

It really seemed so, as he looked into that grave, serious 
face, so unlike a merry, careless girl ; and while a sigh 
crossed his lips, his eyes looked trustingly into hers. 

“ Yes, dear, I think you can. You deserve, and I am 
happy to give you, my confidence ; besides, I want 


62 


SIX GIRLS 


to show you how you have helped me to-night. I 
am troubled very seriously. I have a note of six thousand 
to meet within sixty days, or the store goes. I see 
no way of raising it. There is four thousand in the bank 
in mama’s name, but I do not want to touch it, because 
if anything should happen to me, you would not have 
one cent left in the world. Still, if one or two ways which 
I have in mind now, do not yield me something, I shall be 
obliged to take it, so as to save part of my business, and 
replace it as soon as possible. Thank God, the home is 
safe ; it can never be taken from you, and never would I 
consider it my duty to rob my wife and children of home 
and happiness, to liquidate my debts. I owe my creditors 
a duty which I will work to fulfill, while I live ; but, I owe 
my family a greater one ; so Olive dear, the old home 
is always safe. To-night I am more thankful to hold 
thirty dollars, than two months ago, I would have been to 
hold a hundred, and only to-day I told Mr. Hess that I 
would have to do without him, and that I would try the 
book-keeping myself.” 

He paused here, and the joy that mastered trouble 
in Olive’s face, found vent as she laid her head on 
his shoulder and cried heartily, Oh, papa I am so glad, 
so glad ! ” 

‘‘ You know more now, dear, than mama,” continued 
Mr. Bering, appreciating the caress, knowing how rare 
they were for any body from Olive. I see she is just as 

\ 


IN CONFIDENCE. 


63 


careful of home expenses as though she knew it all, and I 
do not want to give her the added trouble until I see that 
I cannot fight my way through, and that it must be 
known.*' 

‘‘Papa, isn’t there some other way that I can help 
you?” 

“ My noble little girl, no, the load is already too heavy 
for your young shoulders ; but, I do so warmly appreciate 
your womanly interest, and your desire to help is precious 
indeed, while you see how great a help it is to me.” 

Olive was smiling happily, even while her heart 
was filled with anxiety and many thoughts ; so they 
sat there for some time in silence, then there came a tap 
on the door, and a sepulchral voice through the keyhole : 

“ If you don’t want the whole family to come swarming 
over the transom, you’d better come out and tell us what 
that tremendous secret is. Speak quick, a single word.” 

“ Shovels ! ” shouted Mr. Dering, implicitly obeying 
the threatening command. 

“ Very good ; you may live, providing you come out 
immediately and give me a dime to buy some butter- 
scotch,” returned the voice. 

“ The request betrays the speaker,” laughed Mr. 
Dering as he stood up and unlocked the door. “ Clear 
out, you begging Kat ; you always ” 

“Hurrah,” cried the beggar shrilly. “Can’t tell us 
apart yet ; there’s Kat on the stairs ; now, whenever we 


64 


SIX GIRLS. 


demand it, you have to give us a dime a piece ; fine, you 
know.*^ 

Yes, I know, you mercenary little monkeys ; come in 
the sitting-room if you want to hear our secret.” 

Kittie and Kat rushed promptly in, and Mr. Dering 
spoke, indicating Olive by a wide flourish. 

‘‘ Ladies and gentlemen — I suppose I must represent 
the gentlemen : — Let me introduce you to my future 
book-keeper and business confidante.” 

Olive lifted her eyes, as he bowed again, and first saw 
her mother’s face so happy and pleased, then Ernestine’s 
so full of something that was almost ridicule, and in an 
instant, without looking farther, her own darkened, and 
withdrawing her hand, she walked over to her accustomed 
corner, thinking bitterly, while they all commented and 
applauded. 

“There ! now every one but mama, thinks I’m a fool, 
and they need n’t be saying, ^ how splendid ’ and ' oh ! 
Olive,’ for did n’t Ernestine look as if she wanted to laugh, 
and as if she would be ashamed of me if I worked, even 
in papa’s store. But I don’t care what any of them say 
or think,” and having turned bitterly against all the girls, 
merely because of the unconscious smile on Ernestine’s 
astonished face, Olive crushed all the joy from her own 
face, and nearly all from her heart. 


\ 


CHAPTER V. 

ONE DAY. 

** Well, surely there never was such a pokey family,” 
exclaimed Ernestine, lounging into the room where the 
girls were gathered, one bleak dreary morning, early in 
November. Nothing ever happens, any more than as if 
we were in back-woods. Kittie, I’ll change seats with 
you.” 

** I suppose you will,” returned Kittie, keeping her 
chair and frowning over her slate and book. ‘‘You’ll 
always change if you get the best by it ; get out of my 
light will you.” 

“ I wish you’d shut the door, Ernestine,” growled Kat 
over the top of a bandage bound round her head and 
face ; “ I wish your tooth was ready to jump out of your 
mouth, and some one would leave the door open on you.” 

“ I’d try and set you a good example, by being polite 
at least,” laughed Ernestine, who really never could be 
cross or blue, very long at a time. “ How grum we are ; 
what’s the matter Bea?” 

“ I’ve an awful head-ache,” answered Bea, who shared 


5 


66 


SIX GIRLS. 


in the general depression, and was considerably ruffled 
over not being able to set a puff straight in her skirt. 

Be quiet, please, and sit down ; it was still enough 
before you came in.^’ 

So I should think, from the way you all look like 
tomb-stones. Nobody looks peaceful, but Jean, and 
she’s asleep ; and Olive is the only one that looks natural, 
because she always looks solemn and cross, no matter 
what’s up.” 

Olive turned from the window with a jerk. She had 
such a cold, that she could not go down to the store, and 
her face was swollen most unbecomingly, 

“ Perhaps if you had a little more sense, you might be 
able to look at least reasonably solemn sometimes,” she 
said sharply. 

“Oh, mercy,” cried Ernestine, with her gay laugh, far 
more tantalizing than the sharpest words. “ If having 
sense would make me look like you, I’d never want it, — 
never.” 

Olive jumped from her seat with a force that knocked 
the chair over, and startled the whole company. 

“ Ernestine Dering,” she cried fiercely, and as though 
the words almost choked her. “ You are the most heart- 
less, selfish, senseless creature, that ever lived; I never 
will forgive you ! You have n’t got a thought above look- 
ing like a wax doll, and acting like a ninny, and I hate 
you ; — there !” 


ONE DAY. 


67 


‘^Well — if — I — ever,” cried Kittie, as Olive vanished 
with a bang of the door that woke Jean and made Bea 
clap her hands to her aching head. 

‘‘You ought to be ashamed,” exclaimed Kat, glaring 
over her bandage. “ Olive's the best one of the lot, and 
IVe three minds to go and tell her so.” 

“And have your head taken off for your pains,” said 
Ernestine, walking over to the glass, and smiling at her 
own unruffled image. “ Olive's a touchy goose, but I 
did n't mean to hurt her feelings, and I’m sorry for it ; 
so that’s the best I can do now, isn't it?” 

“I suppose so, unless it is to think once in a while, 
that there is some one in the world with feelings, besides 
yourself,” answered Bea, jerking her unruly sewing, and 
getting crosser than ever as she ran her needle into her 
finger. 

“ Dear me,” cried Ernestine, throwing her hands up, 
and admiring them in the glass. “ It's a sure sign that 
something is going wrong with this family, when you get 
cross, Bea.” 

“I’m not an angel,” grumbled Bea, then threw her 
sewing down, and gave herself a shake, both mentally and 
physically. “ But there’s no need of my acting like a 
bear, and I’m really ashamed. Come sit on my lap, Jean, 
you look terribly grieved.” 

“ Well, 'tis n’t very pleasant with mama gone, and you 
bU fussing so,” answered Jean, limping over with her 


68 


SIX GIRLS. 


crutch, and laying her head on Bea’s shoulder with a sigh. 

If you all were lame awhile, you’d be so glad to get 
straight again, that you never would fuss or scold again, 
never.” 

Bea sucked her bruised thumb, and thought more 
heartily than ever, that they ought to be ashamed ; but a 
little witch of impatience and petulance lurks in the gentlest 
of feminine hearts, and though Bea had resolved to hush 
talking, and be patient, the little meddling temper was 
wide awake, much aggravated at the gloomy weather, 
and bound to make mischief if possible. Ernestine 
turned away from the glass in a moment, and strolled 
over to the lounge. 

I don’t see,” she exclaimed, why everything should 
be denied us. I’d like to live for awhile just as I 
want to.” 

No one answered, for just then Kittie threw down her 
slate, and burst into impatient tears. 

What’s the use ! I can’t understand such fractions, 
and I never will ; I’d like to smash that slate, and bum 
this old book ! ” 

Does n’t Miss Howard show you? ” 

“ O yes, she shows and shows, and talks and explains, 
’till my head spins like a top ; but I can’t understand, and 
after a while she says, in such a surprised way, as if 
she thought I was the biggest dummy in the world — 
‘Why, Kittie, don’t you see it yet?’ and I don’t see 


ONE DAY. 


69 


it any more than ink in the dark, but I’m ashamed, 
so I pretend that I do, and that’s the way it always is,” 
and Kittie cried despairingly. 

” How the cheerfulness increases,” laughed Ernestine, 
jumping up. I’m going down stairs, and I sha’n’t come 
up again until I can say something that will please you all. 
By-by,” and away she went, nodding brightly. 

The morning wore slowly away. Jean, with a pain in 
her back, lay in Bea’s arms until she fell asleep again ; 
then after laying her down, Beatrice went back to her 
sewing, made patient and penitent by contact with that frail, 
peaceful little sister, and, after viewing her unmanageable 
puff determinedly for a few minutes, saw her mistake, and 
immediately went to work and finished it with no trouble. 
Kat, after much grumbling, finally brought her tooth 
to comparative submission, and went to sleep, while 
Kittie fled from the field of fractions, and spent her 
morning in the swing, which hung in the shed. 

Just before dinner, the door-bell rang, and in a minute 
Ernestine came flying up stairs. 

“ There,” she cried, waving a tinted paper. I’ve 
something to please you with. Just listen: — ‘Mrs. 
Richards would be pleased to see Miss Dering, Miss 
Ernestine and Miss Olive for tea next Wednesday Eve !’ 
I expect they’ll dance. Won’t it be fun?” 

“ I don’t see any use of your waking me up, I’m not 
invited exclaimed Kat, sinking back on to her pillow. 


70 


SIX GIRLS. 


when she found that she was not included in the coming 
bliss. 

I hope you didn’t expect it, only a child,” said 
Ernestine, as Bea took the magic paper in great delight. 

‘‘ Child, indeed ! ” cried Kat. Tm tall as you.” 

More’s the pity, for you’re only twelve, and as wild as 
a boy.” 

I don’t care ; I’m going if mama says so ; can’t I 
Bea?” 

“ Why no ; Mrs. Richards did n’t ask you.” 

‘‘What’s the difference? She likes me just as well as 
she does you and would be just as glad to see me.” 

“ Of course ; but girls of twelve are never invited out 
in the evening,” expostulated Bea, re-reading the delight- 
ful invitation, for events were rare in Canfield, and then it 
was so nice to be called “ Miss Dering.” 

“ I don’t care, I think it’s real mean ! ” and Kat vented 
her resentment by punching her pillow into a helpless 
knot. 

“ Go, call Olive, Ernestine,” continued Bea, all smiles 
and complacency; “ and just say, by the way, that you’re 
sorry you hurt her feelings ; it’s quite the proper thing 
to do, you know.” 

“ All right,” and Ernestine ran down the hall. 

“ Oh, Olive ! come with us ; here’s an invitation from 
Mrs. Richards. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings ; come 
on.” 


ONE DAY. 


71 


I don’t care for anything that you said, and IVe 
something to think about besides invitations. Go away, 
will you? ” 

Oh, certainly ” and having glibly uttered her penitent 
speech, Ernestine cared nothing about its reception, but 
hurried back to discuss their dress with Beatrice. 

But mama has not said that we can go,” said Bea, 
caressing the tinted paper, as she interrupted an enthusias- 
tic speech that was making Ernestine’s eyes glow 
like diamonds. 

'‘But she will; why shouldn’t she? Anyhow I’m 
going to believe that she will. I will wear my silk 
and my new scarf, and borrow mama’s laces for the 
sleeves, and her white comb, and jewelry with the brace- 
lets, if she will loan them ; — do you suppose she will?” 

“No, I know she won’t ; she’ll think it’s too much 
dress for a young girl. Wear flowers.” 

“ Nonsense ! I won’t. I want the jewelry. What will 
you wear? ” 

“ My cashmere ; it’s all I’ve got,” and Bea sighed 
a little, for she did love to look nice. “ The sleeves are 
dreadfully worn, and the over-skirt is n’t the latest ; but it 
can’t be made over again, and I can’t aflbrd to spend 
a cent.” 

“ Never mind,” said Ernestine, who could, and did 
readily advise what she disliked to practice. “ Brush it 
up good, put ink over the little hole in the sleeve, and I’ll 


72 


SIX GIRLS. 


loop the over-skirt so that it looks later in style, and loan 
you my blue bows.*' 

I suppose you will,” returned Bea petulantly, for the 
temper, though appeased, was still awake and alert. 

You're quick enough to loan me what you don’t want 
yourself, and to say for me to go in an old-fashioned 
dress, with the holes inked up, and no jewelry ; when you 
want silk and laces, and all the jewelry; you are 
generous.” 

Oh, well, you may have the — the things if she will 
loan them ; don’t get fussy,” said Ernestine, not a trifle 
abashed. ‘‘Who do you suppose will be there?” 

‘‘ Whoever she invites, I suppose,” answered Bea, still 
ruffled. 

“ And I expect Dell will be dressed beautifully ; oh, 
dear, how nice it would be to be rich,” sighed Ernestine. 

“ I don't think it's fair for some girls to have so much, 
and others to have to scrimp and pinch, and then have 
nothing,” cried Bea, exaggerating her woes, as is usual, 
when one is determined to think one’s self the worst 
abused of all mortals. “ I wonder if Olive is going, and 
how she will dress.” 

“Just like she always does, I suppose, in that old 
green, with a big white collar, and her hair pulled straight 
back, and as smooth as a door-knob, no ornaments, and 
look fierce enough to chew every body up. I do wonder 
what Olive is good for anyhow, she is n't any comfort to 


ONE DAY. 


73 


anybody,’* and, as Ernestine spoke, her eyes went slyly 
over to the glass, where her pretty attitude in Jean’s 
chair, and the sunshine lying warm on her hair, were 
reflected. 

Usually, Bea would have taken up her sister’s cause, 
and uttered some conclusive defence, but now she felt 
abused, and did n’t care much what was said of anybody, 
so after a moment, Ernestine went on — 

“ I wish I knew the ^ German,’ I’m going to ask Dell to 
teach me, she does it beautifully. I think it is so hateful 
in Olive not to dance, it spoils a set for us, so that we can 
never dance quadrilles ourselves.” 

I suppose she has a right to do as she pleases,” an- 
swered Bea, revelling in the questionable luxury of being 
as cross as she could. ‘‘ I don’t care whether mama lets 
us go or not, I have n’t a thing to wear, and of course if I 
don’t go, you can’t.” 

Oh, but she will, I’ll fix you so pretty, that you ’ll 
blush to look at yourself, and you know Mrs. Richards 
said last summer, that you looked like an angel in white, 
and you may have quillings off my bolt of footing to 
put in your basque, and around the pleatings and, with 
these skilfully thrown in words, Ernestine ran off to look 
over her little collection of ribbons and laces, while Bea 
turned her eyes slowly to the glass, just as her pretty 
sister had done a moment before, only not with such an 
air of perfect satisfaction. 


74 


SIX GIRLS. 


How pretty Ernestine is, and even if she is selfish, 
she*s always so willing to loan things, that any one does n*t 
think that it’s just because she doesn’t happen to want 
them herself. I hope if Olive does go, she will fix up a 
little,” and with a sigh Bea turned away from her reflec- 
tion, and after covering Jean with a shawl, went down to 
see if dinner was not nearly ready. 

If they could have seen Olive, they would never needed 
to have asked if she was going. All the afternoon she 
walked slowly up and down her room, sometimes increas- 
ing her gait, as the thoughts crowded and doubled the 
deep trouble in her face ; and, in her mind was one 
thought that mastered every other, and that often formed 
itself into words and crossed her lips in a whisper of 
shivering dread. 

The sixty days are almost gone, and papa has not got 
the money ! What will he do? oh ! what will he do?” 

Being with him constantly in the store, Olive saw, what 
he struggled to hide from those at home, — the utter des- 
pair that was mastering a patient hope ; — and she knew 
that as the days went so swiftly by, that to him, tlie end 
was growing more certain. Once she saw him eagerly tear 
open a letter, and after reading a few lines, drop his head 
on his hands, and, unconscious of her nearness, groan 
despairingly. It weighed on her mind terribly, and her 
great desire to be of help, faced by the fact of her perfect 
inability, made her almost desperate, at times. 

\ 


ONE DAY. 


75 


Beatrice spent the afternoon in fussing with her dress, 
and Ernestine in watching for her mother, who was 
spending the day with a sick friend, so as she was still 
absent, when the tea-bell rang, the meal was rather 
gloomy; for the three older girls were busy with 
thoughts ; Kat’s tooth still ached, Kittie had caught cold, 
and their resentment at not being included in the invi- 
tation, being mutual, they devoted themselves exclusively 
to each other, and Jean dismayed at the unusual silence, 
ate her bread and milk with a pathetic air of loneliness, 
quite touching. 

Ernestine, won’t you sing just a little something,” she 
asked, as they went into the sitting-room, where the fire 
burned low. ‘‘It’s so lonesome without mama, when 
you’re all so still. Seems to me everything has gone 
wrong all day, what’s the matter?” 

“ Everybody’s in the blues, it’s in the air,” laughed 
Ernestine, sitting down to the piano, and skimming the 
keys. “Sit down chickie, and I’ll sing ‘Three 
Fishers.’” 

Jean curled in a chair, with a pleased smile, and Ernes- 
tine began the plaintive song, with the firelight flitting 
over her face, showing that she sang with more feeling 
than usual. 

** For men must work, and women must weep, 

And the sooner 'tis over, the sooner to sleep.” 

The door-bell rang just there, and made them jump, 


76 


SIX GIRLS. 


then Bea went to the door, for though quite dark, it was 
not seven yet. 

A man stood just outside, a stranger, and as Bea opened 
the door with no light, but the fire from the sitting-room, 
he did not seem to know what to say. 

‘‘Is Mrs. Dering here, — that is, — is she home?*’ 

“ No, she is not, but will you come in, perhaps I will 
do,” answered Bea, peering beyond him, and starting, as 
she caught the outline of other figures on the steps. 

“I do not think you will, I, — in fact we, — ” and there 
he paused, and looked behind him, and a vague chilling 
alarm struck Bea, and made her voice tremble as she 
asked — 

“Is it anything so particular, any ,” 

“Bad news,” he said, as she hesitated. “Yes Miss, — 

Dering, I presume, I do bring bad news, your father 

Ernestine stood in the sitting-room door, and as the 
words were uttered, she saw Bea rush out, heard a faint 
scream, and a strange voice say, “ catch her, she’s falling 
then there came a tramp of feet across the porch, and 
four men crossed the hall, and came into the room with a 
strange burden ; a rude litter, with a motionless figure on 
a mattress ! Bea had fainted, for she had followed it, but 
as the men set their burden down with pitying faces, there 
came a shrill scream and a fall, for Ernestine dropped to 
the floor, and Jean continued to scream with her face hid. 
The three girls from up stairs came flying down,Huldah 


ONE DAY. 


77 


ran from the kitchen, and in the dire confusion, the 
strangers stood, not knowing what to do, or whom to 
address, for every one seemed to have lost self-possession 
in the overwhelming shock. So thought the gentleman 
who seemed to be leader, but at that minute a hand 
touched his arm, and a voice startlingly hushed, asked : 

* Is he dead?'* 

He is, madam/ ^ 

A spasm of pain crossed her set-white face, as her lips 
opened slowly, and the next question came with a gasp of 
dread : 

By — by his own hand?*’ 

*^Oh, no, madam, no indeed,” cried the gentleman 
eagerly, glad to give that relief. He was on the train 
going down to the city, which was wrecked twenty miles 
this side of it. His death was instant and painless, a 
blow on the left temple.” 

« Thank God I” 

She uttered it slowly, and almost below her breath, 
then lifted her eyes from the peaceful face so life-like in 
death, and looked around the room. Ernestine lay 
moaning on the lounge, Kittie and Kat locked in each 
others arms crouched in the corner, tearless, because 
paralyzed with fright, Jean shook as with a spasm in Bea’s 
lap, while Huldah stood by the lounge, with her apron 
over her head j and the men stood hushed and abashed 
with their eyes down. 


78 


SIX GIRLS. 


Take Jean out.” Olive said again in that strange still 
voice. ‘‘Huldah carry Ernestine to her room, and Kittie, 
you and Kat go out to the steps and watch for mama.” 

How instantly they all obeyed her, as though recogniz- 
ing one with authority, and how curiously the gentleman 
scanned her stonily white face, so worn in this brief moment 
of suffering, and listened to her last words with wonder. 

^‘Then you are not Mrs. Dering?” 

‘‘ No !” Olive did not seem surprised at the question, 
but her eyes went to his face slowly, and her lips began to 
twitch. How will we ever tell her ; oh ! how will we ?” 
she murmured, clasping her hands tightly; but the 
stranger heard the low words, and spoke hurriedly, with 
his eyes on the dead face. 

‘‘ If you are expecting her, some one had better go to 
prepare her, for the shock might prove — 

Olive did not wait for more, but snatching a shawl 
from the chair, saying as she vanished : 

I will go, only stay Till we come back.” 

The moon was coming slowly through a bank of clouds, 
and the wind sighing mournfully through the bare tree- 
tops, as she sped swiftly down the path and through the 
gate, whose familiar slam sounded dreary and dull, though 
it hardly reached her, as she ran down the quiet street. 

In just a few minutes she saw another figure wearing a 
familiar shawl in the moonlight. 

Why, Olive,” cried Mrs. Dering. “ Were you aM 


ONE DAY. 


79 


worried about me. Mr. Dane wanted to walk home with 
me, but 1 told him I would stop at the store for papa, and 
when I got there, the boy told me he had taken the after- 
noon train to the city ; some sudden business I suppose. 
Why dear, how you have run ! ” 

Oh, mama ! ” it was Olive’s only utterance, but it told 
its own story, for Mrs. Dering instantly grasped the hand 
held out to her and inquired sharply : 

‘‘ What is it, quick, — any trouble at home?” 

Yes,’^ — gaspingly. 

‘‘ What, — I heard them talking of an accident, — Oh I 
Olive !” 

Papa,” said Olive, growing calm as she saw her mother 
blanch and tremble in the pale light; but Mrs. Dering 
waited for no more; grasping Olive’s hand still tighter, 
she broke into a swift run, that did not slacken, until the 
steps were reached, and the sobbing within reached 
their ears ; then Olive forcibly held her back an instant. 

Oh, mama, — wait, — let me tell you, — ” 

“ No, — he is dead, I know it ; ” and breaking from the 
detaining hold, Mrs. Dering ran in, and when Olive 
reached the door, she was kneeling beside the litter, with 
one dead hand pressed to her hidden face, 

In a moment they knew that she was praying, and 
feeling in the presence of something sacred, each man 
bent his head reverently, and covering her face, Olive too, 
tried to pray, and shed her first tears. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A STRANGER. 

On the day of the funeral, the sun came up and flashed 
over the grey chill earth, with a spring-like warmth and 
radiance, and crept through the open windows with a 
broad glad smile, as though no sorrow darkened the home 
and hushed the merry voices. 

Many limes in these three days of crushing sorrow, when 
heart and hand seemed powerless to act, had Ernestine 
thought in a vague, wondering way, of her words : I 
wonder what Olive is good for, she is no comfort to any 
one.” Why, she herself, shivering and white, clung to her ; 
Bea went to her ; Mrs. Bering turned to them all for com- 
fort, but to Olive for help and advice ; Huldah came to her 
for orders ; callers with offers of flowers and help saw her, 
and all said when questioned ; ‘‘ ask Olive, she can tell 
you ; ” “ where is Okve ? ” Okve knows all about it, 
don’t disturb mama ; ” and so for once, home without 
Olive, would have known its greatest need. 

On the evening of that last day, when all the sorrowful 
farewells were over, and the grief stricken family had re- 


A STRANGER. 


81 


turned to their sadd^tied home ; there came a stranger 
into Canfield, and after inquiring the way, stalked briskly 
out to the Dering house. All the heavy foliage being 
gone, Jean saw him coming through the gate, and turned 
from the window. 

‘‘ Some one is coming, Olive,’’ and Olive reached the 
door, just as the stranger gave a vain pull at the muffled 
bell. He was a strange, odd looking old gentleman, 
erect as a picket, scrupulously dressed, and looking at her 
with fierce grey eyes from under the bushiest lashes. 

“Is Mrs. Dering in?” he inquired with a tap of his 
cane. 

“Yes, sir, but ,” 

“Well, that’s all I want to know now, I’ll ask the rest 
after I get in,” and emphasizing the words with another 
sharp tap of his cane, in he walked. 

“ But, .sir, my mother cannot see you to-night,” said 
Olive, somewhat startled, but speaking with decision, and 
still holding the door open. 

“ Tut, tut, tut ! I have n’t come three hundred miles to 
be turned out into the night. Come, come, young woman, 
lead the way to where there’s a fire and light, then take 
this card to your mother, and if she won’t see me, give 
me a good comfortable bed, and I ’ll wait ’till morning for 
her. 

Olive began to feel as though she had little to say in the 
matter, besides, he stamped his cane and looked at her so 


82 


SIX GIRLS. 


fiercely, that she thought he might be an escaped lunatic, 
and perhaps she had better humor him. So she led the 
way into the sitting room, poked the fire till it glowed 
brightly, then the old gentleman sat down, but jerked his 
head around quickly as the sound of Jean’s retiring crutch 
fell on his ear. 

Ha, hum ; come here little girl and his voice sharp 
and rough, softened wonderfully ; but Jean only lifted 
her tear-stained pale little face, for an instant, then 
vanished ; whereupon he pulled out a scarlet silk hand- 
kerchief, and blew his nose fiercely, then turned to Olive 
as if he expected to demolish her instantly with the card 
in liis fingers. 

Here girl, take that to your mother and be quick.” 

Olive took it and unconsciously dropped her eyes to 
the name — 

“ ROGER RIDLEY CONGREVE.” 

Even the old gentleman started as she looked up, for pale 
as her face had been before, it was positively ashy now, 
and her eyes glared at him like a young lioness at bay. 
Somewhat amazed the old man rose and approached her ; 
but she started back, threw the card at his feet, crying 
chokingly with a frantic gesture of her hands : 

“ Go away, go away, don’t touch me, — oh, how I hate 
you ! ” and vanished through the door as if she had been 
shot. 

God bless my soul ! ” cried the astonished man. 


6 


A stranger. 


83 


dropping into his chair and apostrophizing the fire with 
startled energy. “ If I ever saw the like, — where ’s my 
snufT-box, — I never did to be sure; streak of insanity, 
must be attended to ; fine eyes, but ferocious young 
woman; hum, ha! — I ’ll sit here till somebody comes.” 

A movement of several persons in the room above, 
would indicate that the family were gathered there ; as 
indeed they were, sitting around mother, feeling nearer 
and dearer than ever in their mutual loss, each one 
drying her eyes slowly, as she talked lovingly of the dead, 
trying to make them feel as did she, that father was not 
lost, but just gone home a little sooner than they. Into 
this peaceful, loving grouj) came Olive, with ashy lips, and 
excited eyes, and a few minutes later, the old gentleman 
down stairs, arose from his waiting seat, as the door 
opened, and a lady came towards him. Just while she 
crossed the little distance lying between them, he 
scrutinized her, with almost savage intentness, and his 
survey ended in a slightly astonished, “ humph,” as she 
paused before him, and bent her head slightly, but with 
due respect for his age. 

“ Mr. Congreve. Will you be seated, sir? ” 

‘‘ Humph ! Well, I suppose I will,” and down lie sat, 
with more force than was necessary, perhaps, but then he 
was excited. 

“ I’m too late for Robert’s funeral, I hear,” he said, in 
a moment, as gruff and short as though she were to 


84 


SIX GIRLS. 


blame for the fact, and he was come to deliver a verbal 
chastisement. 

“ Yes, sir, a few hours.” 

‘‘Humph ! His death was very sudden.” 

“ Very sudden indeed.” 

Humph ! ” 

Very plainly, Mr. Congreve did not know exactly what 
to say next. He had n’t expected this kind of a widow ; 
his mind had pictured one in bushels of crape, with a 
drenched, woe-begone face, who would scream when she 
saw him, fall on his neck, in lieu of his purse, and gasp 
out dramatically : “ Dear, dear Uncle Ridley, now all my 
troubles are over,” after which, he would have to pet her 
into quietude, when there was nothing, next to walking 
out of the window in his sleep, that he dreaded more than 
a crying woman ; then he would have to kiss all the 
children, and so greatly did he object to such an oscula- 
tory performance, that after the act he looked as though 
he had made way with a quart of alum. Now, there was 
the pleasing, but slightly astonishing fact, that nobody 
was going to want to kiss him, and this pale, sweet-faced 
woman, with her quiet eyes and determined mouth was 
Robert’s widow, that he would have to talk to; and 
it was very evident, that if he had anything to say, she 
was waiting quietly to hear it. 

“You have quite a large family, — madam,” he said, 
hurriedly rushing in to break a pause. 


A STRANGER. 


85 


Yes, sir, six daughters.’* 

“ Six ! Bless my soul, — six girls,” and Mr. Congreve 
hastily took some snuff to settle his nerves. “ Astonish- 
ing, I declare. Pity they ’re not boys, — great pity.” 
would not have it otherwise than it is, sir.” 

” Humph ! well, they’re your burden, not mine,” said 
the old man, testily, and twisting uneasily in his chair. 

** A burden I am happy and grateful to bear, if burden 
it be,” answered the widow, calmly. 1 am thankful they 
are all mine, my comforts and helps at all times.” 

“ One of them is lame, is she? ” and aS he ..spoke, the 
old man’s voice softened, as it had done when he called 
to Jean. 

“ Yes, sir, my little one, lame from babyhood.” 

Mr. Congreve resorted to his handkerchief again, and 
waved its scarlet folds back and forth in much agitation 
for a few seconds, then, as he put it back in its capacious 
pocket, and sniffed once or twice, as if in defiance to 
some internal commotion, Mrs. Bering remembered that 
he had once had a little lame girl, who died before 
reaching womanhood. 

He was regarding her intently, and now as she lifted 
her eyes, softened with this sudden remembrance, he 
bounced out of, his chair, and set his cane down sharply 
on the hearth. 

“ Elizabeth Bering, you ’re not the woman I thought 
you were. You ’re not like your father, and I ’m glad of 


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that. I came here to offer you help, because I know for 
a certainty that Robert was in trouble, and I see that you 
are no more pleased to see me, than I was at the prospect 
of seeing you. That I have been angry with my nephew 
for many years, you know well enough, but there *s no 
use denying that his sudden death has touched me, 
and I want to do something for his family. To-night you 
are in no condition to talk, no more am I ; so if you will 
show me my room I will go to it immediately./^ 

Mrs. Dering arose also, with relief plainly visible in her 
face, and after finding that he had taken an early supper 
before leaving the city, excused herself to arrange for 
his comfort during the night. 

Several hours later, when the household had forgotten 
its grief in slumber, and nothing disturbed the stillness of 
the night, but an occasional frog, and the lonesome sigh- 
ing of the wind through the bare trees, two persons found 
it extremely difficult to sleep. In Mrs. Bering’s room 
the fire lay in dying embers on the hearth, and in a 
low chair before it, sat the pale mother and widow, with 
no need now to hide her grief, lest other hearts were 
made sad, for no one was near but Jean, and she slept 
soundly, with sorrow lost in the oblivion of dreams. So 
feeling for the first time, the liberty of tears, that poor, 
aching heart broke its stem control, and burying her 
face, the sorrowing woman wept, praying, as the tears 
rolled down her cheeks, that they might not be shed in 


A STRANGER. 


87 


bitterness or rebellion, and that her heart, through all its 
pain, might still feel and know, “ what is, is best.” When 
the violence of her grief had expended itself, and she 
could lift her face to view calmly her loss and new 
responsibilities, the unvoiced prayer of her heart was ; “ O 
God, help me ; I cannot work alone ; let me know what 
to do ; help me to think and act aright, and strengthen 
my trembling faith, that whatever may come to me, I can 
say : * God knows it is for the best.^ ” 

Even as she prayed, help came to her, for Olive could 
not sleep, and feeling assured that her mother was awake, 
had come noiselessly in, and now stood by her. 

Mama, I cannot sleep either ; let me stay with you.” 

** Olive, my child, it is past midnight.” 

** I know, mama,” and as Olive spoke, she pushed a 
stool to her mother’s feet, and sat down, for something 
in the voice assured her that she was welcome. 

** Why couldn’t you sleep, dear?” 

‘‘Thinking,” answered Olive, gravely. “And I 
wanted to talk to you, mama, when we could be quite 
alone.” 

“ Yes, dear.” 

“ Will you tell me about Mr. Congreve, please ? ” 

No curiosity prompted the question ; that her mother 
knew ; so, looking down into the grave, thoughtful face, 
she lowered her voice, and began : 

“ Mr. Congreve took papa when he was left an orphan 


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at eight years old, and raised him, expecting to make him 
his heir, as he is very wealthy. When Mr. Congreve and 
my father were boys they were great friends ; but in early 
manhood, had a bitter quarrel that has never been for- 
given either side, and they have hated each other fiercely 
ever since. When Mr. Congreve found that his nephew 
was in love with his enemy’s daughter, he was furious with 
anger, and my father also objected to the match, but not 
so bitterly and blind to reason, as his enemy. Your 
father was threatened, plead with, and sworn at; but 
while he remained firm to his intention of marrying me, 
he really loved his fiery uncle, and disliked to come out in 
open rebellion ; but a final move of Mr. Congreve’s was 
more than he could bear. He locked him up. Of course 
no man of age and reason could stand such an indignity 
as that, so, making his escape at night, he left without a 
word of any kind, and has never seen his uncle but once 
since. A little while after we were married, we received a 
letter from him, very short and bitter, saying that he 
could tread the path he had chosen unmolested ; that we 
were no more to him than strangers, and that his new will 
left his property entire, to a cousin’s child, Roger Ridley 
Congreve, his namesake. He says now, that when he saw 
papa’s death in the paper, that he was touched by it, and 
that he has come to help us, though I don’t see how he 
knows we need it.” 

“ I do, mama.” 


A STRANGER. 


80 


You, Olive? ” 

‘‘ Yes, mama.'* Olive's fingers were interlaced nervously 
and her eyes were flashing warmly as she lifted them from 
the low fire to her mother’s face. “ I know all about it, 
mama. Do you remember the night I talked with 
papa in the study about two months ago? " 

‘‘ Yes.” 

“Well, he told me a great deal that night about his 
business, that he never told you, because he said he did 
not want to worry you with it unless he had to ; he had a 
note of six thousand to meet in sixty days, and he was 
trying every way to raise it without touching your money 
in the bank. He said if he could not pay it, the store 
would go, that the home was ours, and must never go for 
his debts. Just a few days ago a letter came, and he 
snatched it so eagerly, that I knew it was very important ; 
it was very short, and when he finished reading it he laid 
his head down and groaned. He didn’t know I was 
near, and I did not speak then, but that letter has haunted 
me ever since, and yesterday when you thought I 
was asleep, I was down at the store, and I found it in his 
private drawer. O mama, it was from Mr. Congreve, and 
so short and cruel, oh, so bitterly cruel, and I tore it 
all to shreds, and burnt it, and never meant to tell you, 
at least, not for awhile. He refused to loan papa a cent, 
and said he did n’t care if he lost both business and home, 
and when I read it I believe I could most have killed 


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him. To-night when he came and gave me his card 
I threw it in his face, and told him I hated him ! ” 

“ Olive ! Olive ! ” 

I did, I did, and I ’m glad ; I felt as if it would choke 
me to sleep with him in the house to-night, and I never 
want to look at him again. I would rather work my 
fingers off than ever have you take one penny of his 
money, or let him help us in any way,’^ cried Olive, 
excitedly, almost forgetting the sleeping household in her 
energy. 

Mrs. Bering put her hand to her head, bewildered with 
the sudden news, and Olive saw, and comprehended the 
look of startled trouble that rested on her face. 

We are very poor now, are n’t we, mama? 

“Yes, child, yes; indeed I am quite bewildered,” 
exclaimed Mrs. Bering, anxiously. “ Bid you say sixty 
days, Olive ? ” 

“Yes, mama, the time is out next Friday.” 

“ Is it possible? What shall we do ! ” 

“ Isn’t letting it go, the only thing we can do? ” asked 
Olive. 

“ I oppose so, but really I can hardly think, it all seems 
so sudden,” and truly her sad, troubled face echoed her 
words. 

“ I have been thinking about it so long,” said Olive, as 
though relieved to speak her thoughts. “ The home is 
ours, and you have four thousand in the bank. It seems 


A STRANGER. 


91 


to me a very little for seven people to live on, but we are 
all strong and well, and can work.” 

‘‘Yes, all strong and well but Jean,” and Mrs. Der- 
ing’s eyes went wistfully to the little unconscious face 
resting on the pillow. “ She will have to be so neglected 
in more ways than one, if home is broken up and every 
one’s hands and work belonging to some one else.” 

‘‘Dear me,” cried Olive, reproachfully. ‘‘How could 
I forget her! There’s something more to think over, 
now.” 

“ But you must think no more to-night, dear, nor must 
I, or we will not be fit for to-morrow’s work and thought. 
Go to bed, and remember, God will not sen 1 us more 
than we can bear ; we must only do the best we can and 
all that is left. He will provide a way for us. Good 
night, dear.” 

Next morning after breakfast, Mr. Congreve stood 
pulling his gloves on and eyeing the six girls from under 
his fierce, bushy brows, and there was something almost 
like amusement in the quizzical look as it swept from one 
face to the other. 

Whatever he thought, he put it into no words, but 
caught up his cane, then stooped down over Jean, lying 
on the lounge, and whispered something in her ear. It 
must have been something magical, indeed, for Jean got 
up, took her shawl and crutch, and walked with him down 
to the gate, and there the astonished girls, who all rushed 


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to the window, saw them pause, and the old gentleman 
lifted Jean up on the post, put her shawl up over her 
head, and then began talking earnestly. 

“ Did you ever ! ” cried Kittie, falling back at the 
amazing sight. ‘‘ I thought she was afraid of him ! 

“She is the only one that he has looked at kindly, said 
Bea, with some indications of resentment in her voice. 
“ Was he always so fierce and queer, mama? ** 

“ Always,’* answered Mrs. Dering, who was watching 
from another window. “ He has a kind heart, but a 
most exceedingly violent temper, which he seems to have 
under no control, 

“If thwarted or vexed, he stops at nothing, but most 
always repents his rash acts as soon as they are com- 
mitted, and, sometimes, if the humor so strikes him, 
there is nothing he will not do as reparation.” 

Olive, understanding that this little explanation was 
especially for her, shut her lips tightly, whereupon Kate 
exclaimed, “You never looked at him when you were 
introduced, Olive, and if you could have seen the way 
he frowned and glared at you, you would have shook all 
over.” 

“ I don’t care how he looked, nor how much he 
frowned. I don’t like him, and I wish he was back in 
Virginia.” 

“ If he isn’t stingy as a miser, he’ll give us something, 
and perhaps ask us to visit him,” said Ernestine, who 


A STRANGER. 


93 


looked languid and pale from excessive and violent 
weeping, and really seemed to be the only one who was 
not trying to be cheerful for the others’ sake. 

** I should like to see where papa lived when he was a 
boy, but I wouldn’t care to have Mr. Congreve there, 
said Bea, who had that morning began being more 
womanly than usual by relieving mama of coffee-urn 
duties. 

‘‘He’s gone!” exclaimed Kittie, from the window. 
“ Now for the secret ! What did he say, Jean ?” 

“ I ’m not to tell,” answered Jean, looking quite ex- 
cited and rather pale, as she hurried in ; then amazed 
them all again by hiding her face in Mrs. Dering’s dress 
and bursting into tears. 

“What ever has he done?” cried Kat, bouncing ex- 
citedly out of her chair. “ Was he cross? — or perhaps 
he pinched you or something.” 

“No, he didn’t,” said Jean, trembling but smiling 
through her tears. “He was very good and kind, and 
did n’t look near so cross as he did in here. He said 
that a great many years ago he had a little girl just like 
me, and he kissed me, too” 

“Did I ever!” cried Kat, quite carried away by 
curiosity. “ And is that all that he said ? ” 

“No, but I can’t tell the rest, now, but he’s going to 
bring me some candy and I ’ll give you all some.” 

“ Perhaps it was because Mrs. Dering turned her head 


94 


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away just then, finding control of her face impossible ; 
or because Jean looked so pathetic, as she gave her little 
promise ; at any rate, Ernestine broke into a quick sob, 
and the next moment they were all crying, while Kittie 
threw herself on the lounge, and hid her face, as though 
she never cared to show it again, and Kat followed her 
example in the rocking-chair. 

‘‘ For several minutes the sound of weeping filled 
the room, then Mrs. Bering wiped her eyes and tried 
to steady her voice. 

“ Children, do you think it would make papa happy to 
see us all so miserable and wretched?** 

Something in the voice hushed the sobs, and caught 
attention, except from Ernestine, who continued to cry 
wailingly. 

‘‘if papa had gone to Europe, made a great fortune, 
and built a grand, beautiful home for us all to come 
to, would we all sit down and cry about it, and say 
it was n’t right? ’* 

Even Ernestine listened a little at this, and Kittie lifted 
her drenched face to look in amaze at her mother. 

“ 1 don’t think we would, but that our happiness would 
hardly wait for the time *till we started to join him. Now, 
instead of going to any country to build us a home, 
he has gone home himself, to the beautiful glorious home 
that was waiting for him, and waits for us ; and is n’t 
it lovely to think how glad he *11 be to see us when 


A STRANGER. 


95 


we come, and it may not be lon^, either. I can almost 
imagine how happy he is to-night, and I should hate to feel 
that we made him sad by sitting here and crying, as 
though we regretted his perfect joy. We miss him sadly 
indeed, but it will make our time of waiting seem shorter, 
if we busy ourselves in doing what we know he would have 
approved and enjoyed, had he stayed with us. You, my 
girls, know how proud and fond he was of you ; you 
know just which of your little faults grieved him, so work 
to overcome them, and try to become the noble, splendid 
women he always prayed you might be. As for me, I 
know how he always trusted me in raising our girls, 
and now that he has gone home, and left it all to me, don’t 
you suppose it is a duty made doubly precious? None 
of us can complain of idle hands, and so with busy hearts 
we can find no time to complain and weep. Now let ’s 
go to our morning work, and all be as happy and cheer- 
ful as you can ; just remember, God loves us so much 
that He has put some one who is dear to us all in our 
home above, so that we cannot forget it, even if we 
are tempted to do so.” 

There was a general putting away of handkerchiefs, and 
many resolves written on the girlish faces, that were 
facing their first grief, and found it hard to do so with 
a patient faith. As they all left the room for morning 
duties, Bea lingered behind the others, and throwing 
her arms about her mother, looked up mth full eyes 


96 


SIX GIRLS. 


and a loving smile. '^Mama, you are such a comfort; 
you talk about heaven and papa, as if they were just 
around the corner, and make me feel as if he knew, and 
was interested in all that we did, just as much as ever. I 
know what will make him the haj^piest, and that is for us 
to be just like you, for he did love and trust you just 
beautifully.’* 


CHAPTER VII. 

MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF AND EVERYBODY ELSE* 

When Mr. Congreve came back from his walk, which 
had been a very lengthy one, for he was much unsettled 
in mind, he came very slowly, and began an uneasy 
soliloquy as he neared the house. 

‘‘ How I just hate to go back there, I do ; seven 
women, — God bless my soul ! and I ’ll wager my 
best hat they ’re all crying like water-spouts, and have n’t 
made my bed yet. I won’t sit down in a room that isn’t 
cleaned up, and bless my soul, — where ’s my snuff box ? 
I ’d sit out doors, sooner than be in the room where ' 
they ’re all sniffling, with the curtains pulled down, as if 
Robert’s going into eternal bliss, was a thing to turn 
yourself into a wailing dungeon over;” and, ending 
his mutterings with a revengeful snap of the gate, he 
stamped fiercely up the walk, scattering the gravel right 
and left, and scaring a stray cat almost into fits, by 


7 


98 


SIX GIRLS. 


the way he swung his cane at her. Something in the 
looks of the house when he glanced up, brought him to a 
sudden stand still. The blinds were all open, with 
the sun shining warmly on the glass, one window 
was thrown up, and through it came the merry whistle of 
a bird, giving forth a musical defiance to the coming 
of winter, and when Mr. Congreve rather slowly opened 
the front door, there met him a warm, cheery odor, 
and, — yes, actually ; some one laughed upstairs ! In 
the sitting-room a j^lly fire leaped and shone in the 
shining grate, the piano stood open, the room was full of 
sunshine, and under Mr. Bering’s large portrait, was 
a bracket, and there on it, a graceful little vase filled 
with pansys and a tea-rose, from Jean’s little window 
garden in the dining-room. 

Mr. Congreve gave a surprised and emphatic 

humph,” and tramped away to his own room, which 
was in apple-pie order, then tramped back, without 
having seen any one butHuldah flying around on the 
back porch. 

Presently Jean came through the hall, and seeing him 
sitting there and frowning at the fire, as though trying to 
study out some new and astonishing puzzle, she stopped 
at the stairs to call, — ‘‘ Mr. Congreve is here, mama.” 

Humph ! Mr. Congreve^ if I ever, it I ever,” ex- 
claimed that gentleman, with some energy, and whirling 
about in his seat. 


MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF. 


99 


Come here, Jeaiiie ; here’s your candy.” 

It really was quite astonishing how his voice could 
change when he spoke to her, and how his face brightened 
when she came in without hesitation and received 
the package with a pleased, — Thank you, sir.” 

Well, I declare, — quite right, to be sure ; but don’t 
you know who I am, and what my name is? ” 

Yes, sir, you ’re my papa’s uncle, and your name is 
Mr. Congreve,” answered Jean, just a little startled at 
being lifted on to his knee, and having his arm around her. 

So I am, to be sure ; quite true ; but if I ’m your 
papa’s uncle, I ’m your great-uncle, and there is n’t such 
an immense amount of difference ; don’t you suppose you 
had better call me Uncle Ridley, as he did?” 

Why, I don’t know, perhaps I had. I ’ll ask mama,” 
answered Jean in earnest simplicity. 

Well, you do that, and tell her if she ’s not busy, I ’d 
like to talk with her awhile. Do you remember what 
I said to you this morning? ” 

Yes, sir.” 

‘‘ Well, I ’m going to talk to her about it now.” 

Jean slipped down in a hurry, and departed with 
her big bundle of candy, looking both pleased and 
frightened. 

Mrs. Dering came down in a moment, and not having 
entirely given up his imaginary widow, Mr. Congreve 
looked up in some trepidation to see if she was crying. 


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SIX GIRLS. 


But no ; her face, though pale and sad, was perfectly 
tranquil, and her dress was cozy, comfortable brown. 

After a few remarks about his walk, and the attractions 
of Canfield, conversation sank into an uneasy pause, and 
for some unknown reason, Mr. Congreve grew as red as a 
lobster. He had expected when he came that all 
he would have to do would be to fill out a check 
for several thousand, assure the demonstrative widow that 
she should never want, graciously allow the children to 
call him Uncle Ridley, submit to be kissed at coming and 
going, then get out of the way, and confine his further 
acquaintance with them to the medium of occasional 
checks and a few letters, when, — well, did you 
ever ! — here he sat, blushing like the most bashful lover 
in Christendom, and could n’t get up his courage to offer 
the widow help of any kind; had actually requested 
the youngest child to kiss, and call him Uncle Ridley, and 
was now entertaining an idea, which, had it been broached 
to him before leaving home, would have aroused his 
fiercest ridicule and amaze. 

^‘You know, perhaps,” he began, with a preparatory 
and strengthening sniff of snuff, that I heard from 
Robert, some days ago?” 

Yes, sir, but I did not know it until last night.” 

Humph ! ” he remembered his first greeting, and 
looked at her sharply. Perhaps you did not know 
until then, just how his affairs stood?” 


MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF. 101 


No, sir, I did not. Our daughter Olive was her 
father’s book-keeper and confidante ; she knew all ; but 
with his ever thoughtful consideration, he hoped to settle 
his business difficulty without worrying me, and I did not 
know until after I left you last night, how deep had been 
his trouble.” 

Olive, — hum, ha ! ” said Mr. Congreve, nodding 
decidedly, and really looking pleased. “She’s the one 
that said she hated me last night ; good ! I ’ll wager my 
hat she saw my letter ; I like her spunk ; she ’s 
a thorough Congreve. Your oldest, I suppose?” 

“ Oh no, she ’s quite a child in years, not yet sixteen.” 

“God bless my soul ! you don’t say so ; only fifteen, 
and a book-keeper, and shares her father’s troubles, and 
flies like a tiger into a man’s face who don’t do to 
suit her ! — hum ! 

“ I should like to see her again. I should, indeed.” 

Mrs Dering could not restrain a smile at the utter 
amazement depicted in his face. He looked like a man 
who was undergoing a constant shower-bath, and did n’t 
know what to make of it. 

“ I am very sorry,” she said. “ It grieves me that 
Olive has an exceedingly peculiar and unforgiving 
disposition. She was devoted to her father, and you are 
quite correct in your supposition that she saw your 
letter.” 

“ And consequently don’t want to see any more of me,” 


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said Mr. Congreve, with a quick nod, and as Mrs. Dering 
made no denial, he got up, and seizing his cane, began to 
walk up and down the room, and Mrs. Dering watching 
his face, saw therein a struggle of some kind. In truth, 
he was turning over in his mind a confession, which his 
obstinate pride struggled against, but which a new, 
strange feeling, that told him he did not want this 
family’s contempt and hatred, claimed and conquered. 
He stopped in his restless walk, and faced her suddenly. 

I have been angry with my nephew for years, you 
know that, and you know my nature,” he said sharply, all 
the more so to hide his feelings. ‘‘ When I wrote that 
letter I meant every word of it, and as many more of the 
same kind, but some womanish weakness afterwards 
possessed me, and on the day that I heard of his death, 
I had a letter written to him, containing the check for 
six thousand.” 

Knowing him, as she did, Mrs. Dering well understood 
the feelings attendant upon this confession, and her face 
softened wonderfully as she said : 

I most regret, Mr. Congreve, that Robert did 
not live to know that you repented the cruel words that 
so grieved him. You know how proud and sensitive he 
was, and what a struggle it must have been to ask help of 
you. Your kindness, though too late, we all appreciate 
sincerely.” 

Too late? The time is not out.” 


MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF. lOa 


‘‘ But I shall let the store go. I have no sons, and 
I cannot have the care of it on my mind.” 

Humph ! May I ask what you intend to d^? ” 

Certainly. I have some money, four thousand in the 
bank, which will only be taken out in great necessity. 
As soon as possible, myself and children will begin to 
work. I am quite sure that I can secure a situation 
in the seminary three miles out of town, perhaps one 
also for Beatrice, my oldest daughter, and I hope before 
long to find something for the others.” 

Mr. Congreve opened his lips to speak, but was 
amazed beyond all comprehension, to find that he 
had no voice, he tried it again, then again, then broke 
abruptly into a hurried walk up and down the room, and 
flourished his scarlet handkerchief furiously. 

It was very kind of you to undertake such a long 
tiresome journey for our sakes, Mr. Congreve,” said Mrs. 
Bering, beginning to feel a strange sympathy for the old 
gentleman who could not hide how deeply he was 
moved . 

Not half what I ought to do,” sputtered the incon- 
sistent old man. I always want to help where I see it 
is so worthy. I am proud indeed, to see, — where ’s my 
snuff-box — that Robert’s wife and daughters are so 
worthy of him; I — I — will you allow me to settle four 
thousand per annum on you and your children?” 

Oh, no ; thank you so gratefully ; but I could not, so 


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long as we are well ; we can work and live quite com- 
fortably, but if I am ever in trouble, if sickness drains 
our savings low, I will come to you gladly, and Robert 
will be so pleased.” 

It was no use to try and hide a sniff, so Mr. Congreve 
made a savage thrust at his eyes and wiped them both, 
blew his nose long and earnestly, coughed several times 
without any apparent necessity, and then subsided into a 
chair. 

“ I suppose you are right, Elizabeth Dering, and I like 
you better for it, though, — God bless my soul 1 — to think 
of you and the little girls working for bread and butter, 
while I count my hundreds of thousands and lay up in 
ease and laziness. Why, it makes me feel as I never 
supposed I could feel over any sorrow or privation that 
might come to Daniel Lathrop’s daughter. But you’ re 
not like your father, no, you ’re not, and I ’m glad of it, 
and if I had it to do over again, I would not banish 
Robert for marrying you.” 

If Mrs. Dering felt any resentment at the thrust 
against her father, she gave no evidence of it, but only 
thought with a quiet joy, mingled with a little longing, 
“ If Robert was only here to hear him say it.” 

‘‘ I want to make another offer to you,” said Mr. Con- 
greve, tapping his stick lightly on the floor, and keeping 
his eyes averted, and before I make it, I want to ask 
that you do not decide too quick. Take all the time 


MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF. 105 


you want, and whatever your decision will be, it will 
affect my happiness quite as much as it does yours.** 

He stopped there, and looked at her closely, as though 
•contemplating a possible refusal ; then went on interrog- 
atively : 

You are going to work at something that will take all 
of your time, and, perhaps, keep you away from home ; 
your daughters are going to work, such of them as are 
able, but, from my observation, there are three of them 
who can do nothing in a business line. Two of them, 
the twins, are strong and healthy and can look after 
themselves, but the third, Jean, what will you do with 
her?** 

^‘You have touched the point that constitutes my 
greatest worry and perplexity,** answered Mrs. Bering, 
quite unconscious of the thoughts in his mind. “Jean is 
so delicate and frail that she requires constant attention ; 
she is a child, and must be amused, and because of her 
affliction she can never be unattended. I have always 
taught her, and being fond of her books, she is much 
farther advanced than most children of her age, and I 
regret beyond all expression that she will have to fall be- 
hind now, she ** 

“ No, she won’t,** cried Mr. Congreve, who had been 
growing more excited as the speech progressed, and who 
now jumped out of his chair with every indication of 
breaking into a jig. “ I assure you she won’t, only let 


106 


SIX GIRLS. 


me have her; she shall have the best governess and 
attendant that money can bring. Every luxury and 
comfort that can be thought of, every wish gratified as 
soon as expressed and I — I — ’’ 

He was obliged to stop to get his breath, and grow a 
little more quiet, for Mrs. Bering was leaning back in her 
chair, quite white with amaze and contending emotions ; 
so Mr. Congreve settled abruptly into a chair and 
smoothed his voice and manner down several degrees. 

didn’t mean to startle you,” he continued. 
know it is sudden and, indeed, I am quite as astonished 
as you are ; I am, indeed ; but the moment I looked at 
the child last night, there was something in her face and 
manner, that reminded me so strongly of my own little 
Mabel, that my heart, old and dried up as it is, went right 
out to her. You know, Elizabeth Bering, how I loved 
my child. She would have been a woman now had she 
lived, but the Lord saw fit to take her, and — and — I — 
where ’s my snuff-box ? — I suppose, of course, ’t was 
best ; but here ’s your little one, yours and Robert’s, 
afflicted like my little Mabel, and I am able to do every- 
thing by her that the sick and afflicted need. She shall 
travel, have the best of medical attention, and if the 
dear good Lord sees fit, perhaps she may be cured.” 

His fierce gray eyes were completely softened and full 
of tears, and the way that scarlet handkerchief flew about 
would have puzzled the closest watcher, but Mrs. Bering 


MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF. 107 


saw nothing, heard nothing but his last words : — perhaps 
she may be cured.” Almost unconsciously she stood up 
and held out her hands. 

^‘Oh, Mr. Congreve, do you mean it, indeed?” 

‘^God bless my soul I mean it? Yes, I do, indeed. I 
do, with all my heart. I ’ll feel like there was something 
for me to live longer for, and it will put new, strong life 
into my dried-up old being, to see a child’s sunny face 
around my quiet home and to know that it is for her 
good that I live. Ha ! mean it ? Yes, my dear madam ; 
I should rather say I did mean it.” 

It really seemed as though Mrs. Bering could not 
speak for the many emotions that oppressed her, but 
after one or two glances at her face, which caused the old 
gentleman to scout at the idea of her refusing, he ex- 
claimed with a fatherly benignity which sat oddly on his 
crusty abruptness ; 

‘‘There, there, dear child, go right off up stairs and 
think about it. I ’ll just take a snooze right here by the 
fire, and then after awhile we ’ll talk again. I don’t think 
the little girl will object. I said a few words to her this 
morning, and the idea pleased her, I am quite sure.” 

So Mrs. Bering retired after a few inarticulate words of 
thanks or joy, and after taking a tremendous tiff of 
snuff with such haste that it nearly strangled him, Mr. 
Congreve settled into a comfortable, dreamy state, 
where a face, long since gone from his home, looked 


108 


SIX GIRLS. 


out at him from the fire with a smile, and then beside 
it came another, sweet and patient, with soft eyes, 
and tlie two seemed to know each other, and as they 
smiled, the one that was now an angel faded slowly 
and left the other there looking at him with beseeching 
eyes. 

There was the greatest commotion up stairs when Mrs. 
Dering told the assembled girls of Mr. Congreve's 
proposition. Jean instantly hid her face and began 
to cry, and influenced by this, the girls instantly 
pounced upon Mr. Congreve, and declared it should 
not be. 

Why do you cry, dearie ? " asked Mrs. Dering. 

“ I don't know," answered Jean, somewhat bewildered, 
as she looked around on the indignant faces. ‘‘ Because 
it seems so queer, I guess. I always thought I would be 
crooked, and have to go on a crutch, and Uncle Ridley, 
— he asked me to call him that, — says, perhaps, all the 
doctors can cure me, and — and it seems so good that I 
don't know how to be glad enough, so I just cry, you 
see." 

Everybody saw," figuratively speaking, for actual 
sight was quite impossible with the quick sympathetic 
tears that sprang to every one's eyes. Opinions flew 
about like papers in the wind, and Mrs. Dering could 
not make herself heard in the babel of tongues. 

’ ‘‘Wait, girls, listen a moment," she exclaimed at last, 


MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF. 109 


and the commotion quieted, somewhat, to hear what she 
had to say. 

You know,” she began, drawing Jean to her side, I 
have been telling you this morning how very differently 
we would have to live, now ; it will take all of us, work- 
ing hard, to keep home comfortable, for the expenses of 
a family of such size are very heavy. Since realizing 
this, I have prayed long and earnestly to know what was 
best to do about Jeanie, for if I can secure the position 
at the seminary, I can only come home twice a week, 
and in the meantime, I could not bear the worry of 
her being here alone with you girls, even though I know 
you would be faithful and careful of the trust. Now 
comes Mr. Congreve’s offer, with the promise that 
she shall have every attention, care and luxury, and 
better than all, that she shall see eminent and skillful 
physicians, whom we could never afford. I feel as 
though it was God’s answer to my prayer, and that 
it is wicked to hesitate a moment, however much we 
all love our little girl, and hate to have her go so far 
away.” 

‘‘But, oh, mama,” cried Jean, with a sob of ecstatic joy 
and excitement, “just to think of my being straight 
and well, like Kittie and the rest ! I would feel like 
I never could thank God and Uncle Ridley enough. Oh, 

I may go, may n’t I ? ” 

“Yes, darling, you shall go.” 


no 


SIX GIRLS. 


So briefly was it settled. 

Everybody was in raptures excepting Olive. She 
frowned severely, and looked bitterly pained, but she 
said nothing until the rest had left the room, then she 
came to Mrs. Bering's side. ‘‘ Oh, mama, are you 
really going to let her go?" 

‘^Yes, dear." 

‘^How can you? Such a cruel, selfish, unfeeling — " 

‘‘Hush, Olive." 

Olive did so instantly, and stood with her hands 
folded and eyes down, the very picture of bitter defiant 
distrust, and Mrs. Bering saw in an instant that any 
thing she might say in Mr. Congreve's behalf, would 
be wasted words, as Olive was fully prepared to mis- 
construe anything that the old gentleman might say or do. 
Nevertheless, she laid her hands on those tightly folded 
ones, and said gently : “ Olive dear, we must be charitable 
and forgiving. Remember, Mr. Congreve is old and very 
peculiar ; he always was, and one's peculiarities increase 
as they grow older. You heard what I said about 
him this morning, and you see he must be kind at heart, 
to have taken such a long journey, just for our sakes." 

Olive made no answer, and her mother sighed a little. 

“In regard to the estrangement between him and 
papa, I think he went to extremes, as hot passionate 
tempered people are apt to do ; and yet, he is not wholly 
at fault, for I grieve very much to say, that in the quarrel 


MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF. Ill 


between my father and Mr. Congreve, father was much 
to blame ; he did very wrong, and it was quite natural for 
Mr. Congreve to feel a violent hatred for all his family, 
and to object to his nephew marrying into it. That Mr. 
Congreve has many times repented his harsh treatment, 
I know to a certainty ; but he is proud, as well as hasty, 
and pride in an old man is harder to battle with than in a 
young one. In speaking of papa a few minutes ago 
down stairs, he could not restrain the tears. He says he 
wrote that letter, and meant it, but that on the day 
he heard of papa’s death, he had another letter, and the 
required check ready to send to him.” 

I don’t believe it ! ” interrupted Olive passionately. 
‘‘ If he did, he wrote it after he heard, just so as to 
tell you so.” 

“ Oh, my child 1 ” exclaimed Mrs. Dering, sadly, ^‘how 
your hasty, distrustful spirit grieves me. You cannot 
conceive of the misery it will cause you, when you are 
brought to face the world, where there is so much to dis- 
trust, and so much that must be overlooked and blindly 
believed in. Can’t you allow for others, some of the 
pride, the wilful temper and bitter hastiness that you 
know so well what it is to battle against, when I tell you 
that the greatest point of difference between your 
own and your great-uncle’s disposition, is, that he is as 
hasty one way as you are the other ; can’t you be more 
charitable to him?” 


112 


SIX GIRLS. 


Oh, mama! /, like him?" cried Olive. 

‘‘Yes, dear, except that when you are once angry 
or hurt, you nurse your pride, and repel every advance 
towards a reconciliation. Mr. Congreve is more gen- 
erous ; if he really sees he is wrong, he is as impulsive to 
mend as he was passionate to break. He is bitter and 
distrustful from a long and often sad and disappointed 
struggle with the world ; you are bitter and distrustful, — 
for what, my dear child, I never could imagine, for 
we all love you most tenderly, and in this grief and 
trouble which God has sent for some good reason, you 
have been an inexpressible comfort to us all.*’ 

Olive withdrew her hand from her mother’s clasp, and 
hurried away without a word. Mrs. Dering thought she 
was hurt, perhaps angry, and sighed deeply ; but Olive 
had gone to hide her tears, and resolve to do differently, 
but all her resolves were made without asking for higher 
strength and help. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


ODDS AND ENDS. 

“ My patience alive ! ’’ exclaimed Kittie, slamming the 
stove door open, and poking in among the ashes and 
cinders with wrathful haste, “ if this abominable fire 
has n’t gone out ; I never did in all my life ! burnt up a 
bushel of kindling, too, dear me ; water in the tea-kettle 
stone cold, not a blessed thing cooking ; no more stuff in 
here to start the fire up,^ and Olive waiting for her 
breakfast this minute to go to the store, good gracious 1 ” 
and having freed her mind, Kittie ran to the back stairs, 
jerked the door open, and shouted with much unseemly 
energy, — “ Kathleen Bering ! ” 

‘‘Just so ; don’t strain your lungs that much again, I ’m 
coming, clear the track,” responded Kat cheerfully, and 
came clattering down with her shoes unlaced, and her 
nose as red as a beet. 


8 


114 


SIX GIRLS. 


Bless the people, but is n’t it cold, though. Whew ! 
Jupiter Ammons ! What a relief it is to say something 
when you’re most friz. You don’t look cheerful, sister 
mine.” 

I don’t care ; it ’s your week to build the fire and 
mine to set the table, and I think you were real mean, to 
go to sleep again, when you know Olive has to have her 
breakfast at seven,” grumbled Kittie, flying about dis- 
tractedly, while Kat sat on the floor and whistled Down 
in a coal-mine,” as she laced her shoes. 

‘‘That’s the truth, my dear, melancholy like the pres- 
ent days. But you just skip into the dining-room and 
set your table, and I ’ll have a few words to say to this 
stove in private, if I don’t freeze stiff beforehand ; ” and 
Kat jumped up briskly, having compromised on a lace 
with one shoe, by tying the strings about her ankle. “ No 
kindling to begin with I Oh, this is bliss ! Now for a 
trot to the woodshed,” and away went Kat flying down 
the yard and back again in a minute with her arms full. 

“ I ’ll be late,” said Olive, putting her head in the 
door, just as the fire began to snap with its new supply 
of kindling. 

“Sorry, but doing the best I can,” answered Kat, 
pausing a minute to warm her numb fingers. “ Can you 
get along on bread and coffee for this morning?” 

“I suppose I’ll have to,” answered Olive, none too 
graciously, and shut the door again with a snap. 


ODDS AND ENDS. 


116 


Cross-patch, draw the latch, sit at the fire and spin,” 
sang Kat ; then the door opened again, and Ernestine 
came in. 

‘‘Dear me, how cold it is in here, and Bea hasn^t got 
the sitting-room fire built either. I *d just as soon be 
out doors.” 

“Go on, and let *s see how long you HI stay,” said Kat, 
shaking an egg into her coffee. “ If the fires don’t get 
along fast enough to suit you, pitch in and build one 
of them; there’s piles of difference between that and 
standing around watching some one else.” 

Ernestine chose to ignore the remark, and stood warm- 
ing her fingers, while she contemplated the frosty 
window-pane. 

“To-day’s lesson-day, so of course I hate it,” she said, 
with an air of settled resignation. “ I never thought I ’d 
teach music, that ’s sure. I never was cut out for it, so 
neither the children, nor I, get along well. Is there 
anything I can do to help out here?” 

“No, breakfast is ready ; just trot the bread in to the 
table. I ’ll bring the butter, and the coffee will be done 
in a few minutes ; that ’s all we ’ve got for breakfast this 
morning,” said Kat, vanishing down the cellar stairc. 

“ I could eat two hundred and fifty griddle cakes, I 
know ! ” exclaimed Kittie, as they collected about the 
table, and Bea began rattling the cups, and the bread 
started around. 


116 


SIX GIRLS. 


‘‘Come down a hundred and seventy-five/’ laughed 
Ernestine who had taken time, despite all depressing 
circumstances, to twist a rose-colored ribbon in her 
sunny hair. “ I believe it ^s going to snow real hard ; 
don’t I wish those children wouldn’t come to-day. 
You all can’t imagine how horrible it is to teach 
music. 

“Well, you have the easiest time of any of us,** 
said Kittie. 

“You ought to cook and wash dishes awhile,” cried 
Kat. 

“Or keep the house,” added Bea. 

“ Or have to stay all day long in the dreariest store in 
town and keep books,” echoed Olive. 

“I thought you loved to work so? ” said Ernestine, in 
answer to this last comparison. “You ’re always preach- 
ing independence.” 

“ So I do,” answered Olive, setting her cup down with 
crackable force. “I never would be idle, but I could 
choose more pleasant kind of work than sitting in Mr. 
Dane’s office all day; it’s the dreariest place I ever 
got into.” 

“ Well, anyhow, Christmas is coming,” said Bea, nod- 
ding cheerfully over the coffee-urn. 

“ More’s the pity,” said Kittie disconsolately. “We’re 
not going to get anything ; it ’ll be awful poky.” 

“But mama’ll be. home for ten days; oh, bliss!” 


ODDS AND ENDS. 


117 


cried Kat, waving her teaspoon, and every cloudy face 
brightened. ‘‘ Can’t we give her something, girls?” 

“ I don’t see how,” said Ernestine. It takes every 
cent we all earn to keep things going. Who ever 
thought we ’d be so poor? Just think of last Christmas, 
how glorious ! ” 

Everybody remembered, and faces saddened again. 
How gay the house had been in evergreens ! how myste- 
rious the locked parlors, where all knew, a tree stood, 
branching up to the ceiling ; how blissfully happy every- 
body had been during the two weeks when the world be- 
comes one in spirit and truth, and the god of good-will 
wields the sceptre and wears the crown ! Father had been 
with them, dear, unselfish, great-hearted papa, whose 
every exertion had been to make them all happy and 
whose dearest hope and prayer had been that his girls 
might be noble, splendid women, with pure, true hearts 
and the spirit of God therein. 

Olive, will you bring some butter when you come 
home? This is the last drop,” said Kittie, scraping the 
dish, and collecting the silver, after the meal was 
finished, as it was very soon, for breakfasts were hurried 
now-a-days. 

‘‘Yes; two pounds? That’s the third time this 
month ; our bill will be pretty big. If I ’m very busy I 
will not be home to dinner.” 


“Sha’nt I fix some lunch for you? 


118 


SIX GIRLS. 


‘‘I haven’t time to wait. Where’s my rubbers?” 

I don’t know. Kat, did you have Olive’s rubbers 
last night?” 

‘‘Yes, and I don’t know any more than Adam where 
I put them. Look in the closet, Olive, and I ’ll run up 
stairs and see,” answered Kat, departing in haste. 

“ Well, I wish you would leave my things alone,” said 
Olive testily, throwing down her mittens and veil, and 
diving into the closet; the general closet, as it was 
called, where everything, from the kitchen stove-hook 
to the girls best Sunday-go-to-meeting bonnets, were 
apt to find a lodging at odd times. “I never can 
be on time,” she muttered, slamming things around 
and comparing various odd rubbers. This closet looks 
like a demented bedlam. I’d be ashamed, that’s what 
1 would.” 

“ I can’t do everything,” answered Bea in a hurry, 
feeling that the thrust was meant for her. “ Because 
I *m housekeeper, it does n’t rest on me to keep every- 
thing in perfect order, when you all help to muss 
up.” 

“It’s like distraction without mama, anyhow,” de- 
clared Kittie, departing with her hands full of dishes, for 
the kitchen, and scowling defiantly at the stove, where 
the fire was sizzling with a lazy sputter, while the dish- 
water took advantage of the lull in heat, to cool at 
leisure. 


ODDS AND ENDS. 


119 


Pretty near as bad without Huldah/’ was Ernestine’s 
comment. “I’m nearly starved for a splendid good 
meal like we used to have, when we could eat all we 
wanted, and didn’t have to think how much it cost, or 
worry with cooking it.” 

“You do less than anybody towards getting it,” said 
Olive, coming flushed and impatient from her vain 
search. “ If Kat doesn’t leave my things alone. I’ll — ” 

“ Let not your angry passions rise,” cried Kat, coming 
in with a rubber whirling on each hand, and quoting her 
copy-book with cheerful disregard for any one’s anger. 
“ Here ’s your rubbers, my dear, and I found them right 
where I put them, on the end of our mantel-piece, where 
I put them in plain sight so as not to forget to bring 
them down this morning, as my prophetic soul felt a row 
in the air if they were not in sight at six and a half, 
sharp.” 

“ You talk like a lunatic,” was Olive’s sole response as 
she jerked them on* 

“ It ’s my only talent, dear,” answered Kat cheerfully, 
beginning to work on the table, where she made the 
dishes rattle. 

Bea trailed slowly through the room with her broom 
and dust pan, and a rather discontented face. Olive tied 
on her veil, and hurried away to her daily business ; 
Ernestine went to practice a new piece ’till the first 
scholar should arrive ; and Kittie and Kat were left to the 


120 


SIX GIRLS. 


bliss of dish-washing and kitchen work. So began the 
day. 

This was several weeks after events last recorded, and 
all things in the Dering household had changed 
much. 

Jean had not gone to Virginia at once. Her wardrobe 
had needed complete repairing, and during the time 
so occupied, Mr. Congreve spent much of it in the 
city, sending therefrom various and beautiful things 
for Jean, and a dress for each of the girls, doing so 
without permission, knowing, that, if asked, it would 
be refused him. 

Kittie and Kat had been withdrawn from school, 
and studied at home with the older girls. Their part of 
the work fell in the kitchen. With Mrs. Dering and 
Huldah for teachers, they had studied the easier branches 
of cooking, and the crooks and by-ways of that depart- 
ment of general work. They proved apt and merry pupils, 
and learned their tasks quite readily, so, that while the girls 
missed the wonderful dishes that Huldah had been able to 

knock up,’^ they were daily fed on very palatable food, 
considering the age and newness of the young cooks. 

Bea was chief house-keeper, kept an eye over general 
affairs, sat at the head of the table, and had commenced 
doing her hair in a most dignified way ; filling with much 
girlish satisfaction, the position of “Miss Dering,” and 
“ lady of the house.” 


ODDS AND ENDS. 


121 


Olive was book-keeper in Mr. Dane’s store, and really 
more head of the family than Bea, as she kept all 
accounts, settled the bills, and was frequently consulted 
on some questionable matters, involving the home ex- 
penses. To Ernestine fell the easy lot of four pupils 
in music. 

Affording her no opportunities of display, or avenue for 
compliments or praise, she thought it very hard indeed, 
and found it bitterly uncongenial, with her ideas of in- 
dependence, if, indeed, she had ever possessed any really 
tangible ones. She wanted to help, as a matter of course, 
especially if all the rest did ; but such an ordinary, self- 
denying way, was sadly distasteful to her, and she still had 
vague, but pleasing idea of becoming a great prima-donna 
and electrifying vast concourses of people, who would 
praise, admire, and pay her largely. Unfortunately, 
however, such positions do not lie around in wait, and in- 
vite some one to honor them with an acceptance ; but, in 
spite of such a discouraging fact, Ernestine held 
tenaciously to her pleasing idea, and spent much time in 
thinking how delightful all things would be, when that 
time arrived. 

Mrs. Dering had secured the desired position in 
the seminary, three miles out of Canfield, and had a 
flourishing class in both music and languages. The stage 
came in twice a week after mail, and at these times the 
anxious mother made hurried trips home, and these few 


122 


SIX GIRLS. 


hours were snatches of greatest joy and comfort to 
all parties, and especially comforting to the girls, who 
found the first few weeks of the new life very trying, and 
oftentimes discouraging. 

On the next Tuesday evening, when the stage came in, 
Mrs. Bering found a thick, tempting letter, with the 
Staunton post mark, and Jean’s prim, childish hand 
writing. There had come several short letters from the 
little girl, who said she would wait until she saw every- 
thing about her new home before writing a very long letter 
to describe it ; so it was evident now that the long letter 
had come, and with this extra joy for herself and the 
girls, Mrs. Bering hurried home, where everything was 
radiantly bright for her reception, and where the girls 
looked and felt as though care had rolled from them for 
the time, or was at least so lightened, that it seemed quite 
gone. 

They did not read the letter until after supper, and on 
the evenings when mother was with them, this meal 
was always a long one, for there was so much to talk 
about, and somehow it seemed so natural and old-time 
like, to linger about the table, that they invariably did so. 

After awhile they went into the sitting-room, leaving the 
dishes until later,. when mama said they would all help; 
and seating themselves, with many smiles and nods 
of satisfaction, about the fire, prepared to hear all that 
Jean had to say about her new home. 


ODDS AND ENDS. 


123 


Congreve Hall^ Staunton^ Virginia^ 
November^ 2 gth^ i8 — . 

Dear precious Mama and Sisters : 

I promised to write you a long letter^ and tell you all 
about Congreve Hall, as soon as I had seen everything about 
it, and felt well enough acquainted to tell it well. It is 
so beautiful and big that I hardly know how to begin ; 
I do wish the girls could see it, especially Ernestine ; she likes 
splendid, grand things so much. 

“ We came out of Staunton, which is a lovely city, in 
a beautiful carriage, which was waiting for us at the train. It 
was a lovely day, and the sunshine was so warm that Uncle 
Ridley had the top all put back, so that I could see everything. 
The road was so wide and very smooth that the carriage just 
rolled along like we were on a floor, and the horses were 
such splendid big black ones, with harness all covered 
with shiny things, and they acted as if they were as proud as 
could be. The driver was dressed beautifully, nicer than the 
gentlemen dress at home for every day, and when I got into 
the carriage he lifted his tall hat, and called me ‘ Miss 
Dering.’ It sounded so funny I pretty nearly laughed ; but 
Uncle Ridley looked as if it was all right, so I thought 
perhaps I had better not. 

“ Pretty soon we began to go up hill, and I thought 
we must have come very far because the horses went so fast ; 
but we had only come half-way. The leaves had not fallen 
then, and the mountains reaching up so high, way ahead of 
us, did look like some beautiful pictures that we used to see 
when papa took us to the city with him. After awhile 
we came to a big gate, oh, so tall, and such high posts, with 


124 


SIX GIRLS. 


figures on top of them, holding big lamps with ever so many 
globes, and Uncle Ridley says some night, he will light them, 
so I can see how bright it makes it all around, and way down 
the road. We went through, and then the road began 
to wind around, and it was perfectly lovely; we went up and 
up, under the grandest trees, and after a little ways, there 
began to be statuary sitting around under them, and beautiful 
seats made like the limbs of trees, all twisted together. I saw 
a flight of stone steps, and they came up the hill from another 
gate, for people that walk, and they look as white as snow in 
the green grass. All of a sudden we turned around a big 
curve, and I just screamed right out; I was so surprised, and 
Uncle Ridley said that was Congreve Hall. Why, mama, it 
is big enough to be a hotel in the city, and ever so many 
people could go in the front door all at once, it is so wide, and 
such lovely marble steps go up to it. There are two big 
towers, and two funny little squatty ones, with a big 
stone railing around the top, and there are porches, terraces 
Uncle Ridley says they call them, all of stone. They go 
pretty near around the house, and then end in steps, broad 
ones, that make a big curve and come down to the ground. 
I think that’s a mighty funny way to build them. The house 
is such a pretty grey color, and some places there .is moss 
growing all over the sides, and there are ever so many vines 
too, that Uncle Ridley says would hold me up, they are 
so old and strong. Inside everything is so big and grand and 
dark, that I was afraid at first, and never went around any- 
where unless uncle went with me; but I’m getting more used 
to it now, and like to hunt around, in the big rooms, and 
walk around in the splendid halls. My rooms, I have four you 
know, are all furnished so sweet in blue and white, with the 


ODDS AND ENDS. 


125 


dearest little easy chairs and sofas, and the cunningest little 
bed, with an angel on top holding the pretty curtains that 
come down all around. I just thought at first that I would 
want to stay in bed all the time. My maid has a little room 
just off my bath room, and she is such a funny girl. She 
combs my hair and dresses me, and all that, and talks all the 
time just like a monkey. Her name is Bettine, and she 
always calls me Miss Jean. My governess. Miss Serle, 
is such a dear, kind lady, and I’m going to study awful hard, 
so as to know lots and make j’ou happy, dear mama, when 
I come home. Uncle Ridley is just the dearest, nicest, kind- 
est uncle that ever lived, I ’m sure. He is so good to me, and I 
love him like everything. Sometimes he tells me about Mabel, 
and then he takes out his big red handkerchief and cries; 
and I’m almost glad I’m lame so I can look like her, and 
make him happier. Mabel Congreve must have been a very 
sweet little girl, and very pretty ; there are pictures of her all 
over the house, but the one in the library is the prettiest. 
She is all dressed in white, with such lovely yellow curls, 
and sitting in the very little blue velvet chair that I ride 
around in now. Uncle Ridley always sits in there, and 
I do believe he talks to her. I have all of her things, 
except her pony; he died, and mine is a new white one; such 
a darling, and I go to ride every pleasant day in her little 
buggy, with beautiful soft cushions and silk curtains. Her 
chair is on wheels, and I can ride all over the house by 
myself, or have Bettine draw me, whichever I want. All of 
her things are just as nice as new, because Uncle Ridley has 
been so careful of them. Yesterday he brought me her 
crutch, and said he wanted me to use it. It is such a shiny, 
beautiful black wood, with a silver rim and pad on the 


126 


SIX GIRLS. 


bottom, so it don’t make any noise, and a soft top covered 
with blue velvet. 

I always take my breakfast in my room, because Uncle 
Ridley does not get up until so late, and it would be very 
dreary in the big dining-room for me. After breakfast I take 
a ride either in the house or out, then play awhile, or do as I 
please until ten; then Miss Serle comes to my room, and my 
lessons last until twelve. Dinner is gloomy. There is a 
servant stands behind Uncle Ridley, and he is so tall and 
solemn looking in his white vest and necktie, that I 
don’t feel comfortable at all. After dinner I play or ride 
until two o’clock, then I have my lessons and my music 
’till four, and after that Miss Serle almost always reads to 
me awhile. I practice from five o’clock for a half an hour, 
then play ’till eight o’clock, and that is time for me to go 
to bed. Some days Uncle Ridley takes me into Staunton 
witli him. 

“ I believe I have told you everything now that you asked 
me about, and I ’ve tried hard to write a nice letter, because you 
were always so particular about it, I ’ve looked in the 
dictionary for all the words I was n’t sure of, and I hope you 
will not find many mistakes. Do please, dear mama and 
girls, write me long, long letters, because I get so lonesome 
and homesick for you all. Every night when I say my 
prayers and ask God to take care of you all, I can hardly keep 
from crying, and sometimes I do, and then Bettine looks so 
sorry and most like she wanted to cry too. 

“ The doctor that Uncle Ridley wants to have me see first, 
is very sick, you know I told you, but he is getting better, and 
perhaps I will not have to wait so long. Oh, my dear mama, 
I know you ask God to let me grow straight, but please ask 


ODDS AND ENDS. 


127 


Him a very great many times, so that He will be quite sure to 
hear. I do. 

“ I am going into Staunton with Uncle Ridley to put this 
in the office myself^ so you will know it came right from me 
with a kiss on it. 

“ Good-bye, my dear, darling mama and sisters, 

‘‘ Your own 


“JEANIE.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 

Mr. Dane had closed his office at four o’clock. 
Nobody cared why he did so, and when he informed his 
book-keeper that she could go home, she never stopped 
to wonder why, but wiped her pens, straightened her desk, 
got into her wrappings and went, with her mind fixed on 
a certain picture that needed much that these two vaca- 
tion hours could give. 

It was snowing very hard, great blinding flakes that 
came whirling defiantly into your eyes, nose, and mouth ; 
almost preventing a necessary amount of sight and 
breath : and they had collected to such depth, that walk- 
ing was a matter of much labor, and only a few plucky 
pedestrians were out to enliven the quiet shrouded streets. 
Olive plunged rapidly along with her head down and 
seemed more engrossed with her own thoughts, than with 
any contemplation of the weather, for she whisked the im- 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


12 ^ 


pudent flakes aside and seemed to be looking down at 
something that was neither of earth, earthy, or of snow, 
snowy, but quite beyond the realm of either. She was 
scowling much the same as usual only in something of a 
puzzled way, that had less of the impatient dissatisfied 
tinge to it than was customary. In fact she was thinking 
of that last talk she had had with her mother, before Mr. 
Congreve went back to Virginia, when she had resolved 
in a vague hasty way, that she was going to do differently; 
and really, how little good, or change, had come from the 
resolution. She didn’t think, to begin with, that she was 

any worse than the rest, or that she needed changing any 

% 

more, but rather any thing, than be like Mr. Congreve ! 
So she summed up all she knew of him, resolved on what 
was disagreeable, and began to model herself accordingly. 
So to begin with she was no longer so hasty or bitter, in 
speech I mean, for her inner-self was not touched, she 
only kept it all to herself now, instead of speaking it out 
as formerly, but if she thought herself changed there, she 
was the only one deceived, for our inner minds do not 
always require the aid of language to photograph them- 
selves before the world Next, instead of staying with the 
girls out of store hours, and running the risk of losing her 
temper, she held herself sternly aloof, always in the 
security of her own room, and at the end of a week was 
apt to say to herself with some satisfaction : 

There, I surely have done well ; haven’t gotten mad 


9 


i 


130 


SIX GIRLS. 


with any one this week, which is more than the other 
girls can say and there never came any thought that 
the sisters were hurt over her manner, for, indeed, she 
had worked herself up the bitter belief, that they did not 
want her, she was so ugly, and so unlike them in all ways. 

Now what puzzled her was the girls. Here she had 
worked (yes, she thought she had worked), she cer- 
tainly ought to be improved, and yet they seemed to 
think no more of her than before. Way down in 
Olive’s heart, was a longing, — choked and starved, that 
was beginning to assert itself. When home held mother 
and father and everything that could make a girl con- 
tented, she had not felt, or rather, listened to it ; she 
compelled herself to be without it ; but now, when they 
were left alone, when their daily life and happiness was 
so utterly dependent upon each other, she began to real- 
ize how she was out of the loving circle that bound her 
sisters together, and what a gulf of her own make, 
seemed to lie between them. She stood beside it in fre- 
quent contemplation, but never recognized her own 
handiwork, so she eyed it bitterly, and thought them 
cruelly unkind. 

This was what she was thinking about as she plunged 
through the storm, looking like an animated snow-figure, 
so powdered was she ; and regarding herself for a 
moment, Olive went round to the back door, so as to 
dispose of her ladened garments and brush off her shoes. 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


131 


This done, she went into the kitchen, where a warm 
atmosphere still lingered, and, preferring to be alone, sat 
down there, with her feet in the oven and her chin in her 
hands, and once more fell into a brown study. Only a 
few minutes later, Kittie came into the dining-room for 
something, and on going back, failed to close the door, 
so that the murmur of voices came quite distinctly out 
to the quiet kitchen. A discussion was warmly in 
progress, and in a minute Olive started out of her rev- 
erie at hearing her name spoken. 

‘‘What’s the use? Olive knows, or ought to know 
better.” It was Ernestine’s voice. 

“But, mama says,” interposed Bea, mildly persuasive, 
“that we don’t try hard enough; we give up too 
soon.” 

“ Bother,” cried Kat, “ would she have us always play- 
ing the ‘gentle sister, meek and mild,’ and go whining 
about Olive as though her company was a great honor. 
I ’m sure we had a season of always begging her to go 
with us, and didn’t she snap us up like a rat-trap?” 

“She— well — she’s very odd you know,” said Bea, 
wondering if her quiver of defense would outlast the 
arrows of complaint. • 

“Yes, odd, as an odd shoe,” laughed Kat with a 
yawn. 

“What did mama say to you, Bea?” asked Ernestine. 

“ She said that Olive’s greatest fault was being so 


132 


SIX GIRLS. 


hasty and sensitive, and that because she was rather plain 
and — ’ 

‘‘She isn't/’ interrupted Kittie, with much energy. 
“I think she has beautiful eyes, if she just wouldn’t 
scowl so much, and when she laughs her mouth and 
teeth are just as prett}^ only she never laughs more ’n 
once a month, so people don’t know it. Not one of us 
has such lovely thick hair as she has, and if she just 
would wave or crimp it a little bit in front, I think — 
well, I think she would be real pretty.” And overcome 
with this valuable earnest defence, Kittie sat down and 
looked complacent. 

“When I see Olive Dering crimping her hair, and 
laughing instead of scowling, I will look for the end of 
the world,” said Ernestine, with some asperity, as she 
walked over to the glass and surveyed her own hair, 
which Kittie had intimated was inferior to Olive’s* 
“ She can’t do it, she was made to frown and stay by 
herself and she better do it.” 

“ You don’t mean it, Ernestine, you know you don’t,” 
said Bea, in a tone of calm conviction, and beginning to 
feel that the duties of elder sister imposed a warmer 
defense of this abused one, upon her. “ I want to tell 
you how I feel, though it may be nothing as you all do. 
I really believe Olive thinks we do not want her, because,^ 
for so long here lately, we have just let her alone, and 
she always goes — ” 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


133 


None of us ever receive a special invitation to join 
this circle/* interrupted Kat, briskly. Why should 
she?** 

I don*t know, but she is so strange,** answered Bea, 
rather helplessly, but not giving up. ‘‘ And because she 
is so, we have sort a* stayed together and let her alone. 
When we used to try to get her to go with us, I think she 
always refused, because she thinks she is ugly, and we 
did not try long enough to overcome this feeling, and 
now she imagines we don’t want her.** 

‘‘ Stuff,** persisted Kat, wouldn’t act that way if I 
was as ugly as a wilted pumpkin and cross-eyed. What’s 
the use?” 

None,” promptly responded Beatrice. “ But if you 
were like her, very likely you *d feel as she does.” 

‘‘Catch me,” laughed Kat, jumping up and making a 
scornful spin on her heel. “ What do you say, Kittie ? ’* 

“ I had my say a minute ago,” answered Kittie, who 
w’as evidently thinking out something over the flames. 

“I wonder what makes her hate Uncle Ridley so?” 
was Ernestine’s query, as she turned from the glass, 
having satisfied herself that Kittie was certainly wrong 
about Olive’s hair. 

“ I never could imagine,” answered Bea, with evident 
curiosity. 

“ She won’t call him, uncle, and the dress he sent her 
is in mama’s room, and Olive says, she *11 never wear it.” 


134 


SIX GIRLS. 


May be she would give it me/* suggested Kat. I 
think hers was prettier than any of the rest.** 

Well, I don’t,” said Ernestine, taking exceptions to 
this remark also. ‘‘ Why hers is black?” 

“ I *m perfectly aware of that, also, that yours is 
purple, Bea*s brown, mine and Elittie’s grey; tell me 
something I don’t know,*’ said Kat flippantly. I wish 
ours were black, it’s so stylish.” 

That black was more stylish than purple, was an idea 
quite beneath Ernestine’s notice, so she went back to 
her former query. 

‘‘ I would like to know, anyhow, what makes Olive 
dislike him so.” For Mrs. Bering had not thought it 
necessary that the girls should know of their father’s final 
appeal, and Mr. Congreve’s reception thereof; so they 
were all equally curious, and so, nobody being able to give 
an answer, Kat ventured an assertion. 

She hates him just because it ’s a part of her religion 
to hate everybody, and, to go around with her fist doubled 
up ready to fight. I believe she ’d hate us with a little 
trying.” 

‘•'Kat,” cried Beatrice, with some severity. “You 
must not speak so, it is wrong, and you don’t mean it. 
Why, if any one else was to say such things about Olive, 
you ’d pretty near fight.” 

“To be sure 1 would,” said Kat with ready incon- 
sistency. “ I truly think Olive is a trump, and I ’d 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


136 


cheerfully knock anybody down who said she was n’t. I 
don’t know what we would, have done without her in the 
trouble, and I do wish she was n’t so odd, and stayed 
away from us so.” 

‘‘ She makes me think of a chestnut burr,” said Kittie 
resorting to figurative comparisons. There ’s lots of 
good in her, but she won’t let any one get at it. If we 
try, she shuts up and gets prickly. I never thought much 
about it, until here lately, and then she was so splendid, 
and knew how to do everything ; and, I begin to think 
that there is ever so much more to her than we think, 
even if she is queer, and don’t seem to like us much.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t worry so about her,” interposed 
Ernestine, as though the subject wearied her. “ She 
evidently don’t like us excessively, or care about being 
with us, so leave her alone. Bea, come lets try our 
duett.” 

Olive had sat perfectly still, and heard all this, quite 
unconscious that her feet were getting chilly in the cold 
oven, or that, perhaps, she should have notified them 
of her presence. She had a vague feeling, as of one 
trying hard to solve a problem, and pausing suddenly in 
her vain efforts, to listen to some one solving it for her. 
But surely they could not be right ! Olive left her seat 
noiselessly, and went up the back stairs to her room. It 
was bitterly cold there, but she wrapped her shawl about 
her, and sat down by the window, where the fast falling 


136 


SIX GIRLS. 


snow was almost hidden in a heavy wrap of early twilight. 
Olive did not often pray. To be sure she said her 
prayers every night, as properly and methodical as clock- 
work, and was very particular about always kneeling 
down, as though position could alone for any lacking 
earnestness ; for she was just as apt to be thinking of her 
account-book, or Mr. Dane's last order, as of anything, 
in the hurried words that slid over her lips. Yes, she 
prayed in this way once in every twenty-four hours, 
but there never came to her any of those sudden, 
passionate appeals for help or strength, when the whole 
heart leaps to the lips, or pleads dumbly, in its great 
need. Notwithstanding all teachings to the point, it 
never really occurred to her that God had as quick and 
sympathetic an ear for a little prayer of few words over 
some trivial worry, given silently in the busy kitchen, or 
on the crowded street, as He had for those when she 
knelt down at night, and absently asked for her daily 
bread, and to forgive as she was forgiven, and then 
get properly into bed and refrained from speaking again, 
lest she spoilt the effect. At any rate, the first prayer 
that had ever sprung to her lips, with the suddenness 
of utter lielplcssncss, came from them now, as she 
sat there, trying to think and battle with hasty conclusions 
that would Sj)ring up : 

“ Oh God, please don’t let me try to think it out 
alone, because I will get it all wrong if I do. If it is rny 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


137 


fault, make me feel it and know how to act, and don’t 
let me be so odd, or whatever it is that makes me feel 
as I do.’' 

With the earnestness of the request, came a quiet 
feeling that she felt to be her answer, and all the time she 
sat there, which was until the supper-bell rang, she 
felt more contented than ever before with her thoughts. 
Not that God immediately took away her faults, and left 
her placid and quiet, with nothing to battle against, 
because He does not do that way ; it can never be 
said to us: ‘MVell done, good and faithful servant,” 
if we ’ve done nothing ; and the battling with our 
faults and worries is just as much our work, as the 
successful doing of some great deed that may bring both 
God’s pleasure and an earthly halo. 

When Mrs. Dering came home on Friday evening, she 
was quick to note a change of some kind, not but 
what every one seemed the same at a quick observation, 
but, there was a something. Now don’t think that any 
thing so unnatural and improbable had happened, as 
Olive being berefit of all faults, and suddenly clothed 
in the guise of a household angel, because there had n’t, 
there never does ; but she had thought much, and Olive 
had a mind capable of more deep reasoning thought than 
most girls of fifteen; she stopped fighting herself with 
weapons solely of her own make, but sent many a 
little wordless prayer for a different feeling, and then she 


138 


SIX GIRLS. 


found that it came more easily, and more completely 
triumphed over its enemy. To-night she had a little 
ribbon tied in her hair, only a small thing, but something 
unusual for Olive, and Mrs. Bering noticed that the bow 
at her throat was just of the same shade, also something 
unusual. Now over just this little thing, Olive had stood 
in silence, while two feelings within her held an argument : 

What ’s the use,’’ said one ; you’re as ugly as fate, 
and the girls will laugh ; besides if you go in the sitting- 
room after supper, they will say you just did it to make 
them say something.” 

“ No such thing,” retorted the other. You ’ve no 
right to think such things, when they’ve given you no 
reason. Go on right down stairs, you know they want 
you, they said they did.” And so she had gone down 
immediately, — perhaps she took a little pleasure in defy- 
ing herself, — and though the girls saw the ribbons the 
moment she came in, no one said anything, for there 
came a feeling to each, that she would not want them 
spoken of. 

Mrs. Bering noticed also that when they were gathered 
in the sitting-room after supper, that instead of sitting off 
in the far corner of the lounge as usual, she had joined 
the circle about the table, and was busy on some worsted 
work. 

Ernestine was rocking idly with her pretty feet dis- 
played on the fender, and her prettier hands clasped 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


139 


above her head, in an attitude both fancy and becoming. 
She was surveying the group about the table, where all 
hands were busy, and all tongues going merrily, and more 
than once her eyes went from Olive’s ribbons to Olive’s 
face, so changed under the effect of a smile. They were 
talking of father now, with their voices lowered a little, 
and looking up frequently to the large portrait, as if ex- 
pecting him to answer, and she wondered a little, what 
could be the matter with Olive, that she talked so much 
more than usual. 

“ A penny for your thoughts Ernestine,” said Bea, in a 
pause that came presently. 

“ I was just thinking how hard it was to be disap- 
pointed,” answered Ernestine, as pathetically as though 
the whole world had grieved her in some way. 

What ’s your disappointment ! tell us,” cried Kittie 
with interest ; and everybody looked up expectant at the 
young lady who had a disappointment.” 

Why, I want to study with great masters and be a 
splendid wonderful singer, with the whole world at my 
feet, and sending me elegant presents,” said Ernestine, 
who always liked to tell her little grievances or wants, 
and receive condolence or help. 

“ What a modest desire,” laughed Kat. Has n’t 
some one else got a disappointment, because they can’t 
sit on a gold throne and eat sauce made of pearls with 
a gold spoon ? ” 


140 


SIX GIRLS. 


I Ve got one/^ said Bea, with her head over her 
sewing. ‘‘ I ’d like to have mama stay home and be 
easy, and I ’d like to have lots of pretty clothes and 
some real lace.” 

“ Weil, I Ve got one,” announced Kat briskly. “ I 
don’t like being poor. I hate pots and kettles worse 
than mad dogs. I would like a wheel-barrow full of 
butter-scotch every day and a pair of slippers with blue 
satin tops and French heels. I have n’t got any talent, 
so I need n’t worry about never being able to bring it out ; 
it would scare me to death it I had one, because talented 
people are always expected to do something big. That’s 
all, and I don’t know really where the disappointment is, 
but I guess it ’s the butter-scotch and slippers. What *s 
your’s Kittie?” 

‘‘I don’t know,” answered Kiltie, with a sigh and a 
glance at her hands. ‘‘ I guess mine ’s having to wash 
dishes, and not having black eyes, and not being able to 
travel all over the world.” 

‘‘ Well, I Ve got one too,” said Olive, to every one’s 
intense surprise, as they did not suppose that she was 
paying any attention to what they were saying, much 
less to join them. “ I ’d like to be as beautiful as the 
loveliest portrait ever seen, and be able to paint the 
grandest pictures in the world.” 

Everyone was silent with astonishment. For Olive to 
express two wishes, and such exaggerated ones, before 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


141 


them all, was something no one could fully appreciate 
who had not heard her repeatedly ridicule the same when 
uttered by the others. 

Mrs. Dering had been sewing and listening with a 
smile, but now she glanced up, met Olivers eyes, and the 
smile brightened warmly, and there was something 
in it that made Olive’s heart feel happy and glad that she 
had made her little speech, though she had hesitated 
before doing so. 

1 don’t suppose anybody cares to hear about 7ny 
disappointments,” said Mrs. Dering, not looking as if she 
had any. 

‘‘Yes, we do; I was just going to ask,” exclaimed 
Kittie, moving closer. “ I know you ’ve got heaps, and 
they ’re not about clothes and butter-scotch, and eyes, 
and doing great things either. Now tell us all.” 

“ I don’t see why I should have heaps,” began Mrs. 
Dering, with a laugh. “ Is it because I am so old, or do 
1 look as though I had been weighted down with 
them?” 

“ Why, no indeed ; but did n’t you ever have any, 
really?” 

“ Yes, indeed, my dear girls, many ; that at the time, 
perhaps seemed very hard and bitter ; but I came through 
them, and have seen some happy, happy days where their 
shadow never fell. I tell you what would be a very 
bitter disappointment to me now, and that would be 


142 


SIX GIRLS. 


to have my girls grow to womanhood, and each be 
discontented with her lot. I would feel as though all my 
love and labor had been in vain. It is my constant 
regret that I cannot give you each a complete and 
finished education, and supply home with all the comforts 
we love ; but when I look at you now, all working 
so bravely, and receiving with so little complaint your 
rigid discipline, it makes me happy indeed, because I see 
in you, a womanly strength and character, that a life 
of ease, comfort, and few self-denials, could never have 
brought out clearly, and I know that God has chosen 
this way to make our girls the dear noble women we 
want them. I would that He had seen best to leave 
father with us, but He did not, so we must just feel 
that He still loves, and is interested in us, and have 
just as much thought for His approval as when he was 
with us. Now, about your disappointments;^’ and 
there she paused to glance around, but each young face 
was warm with interest, so she went on with her cheery 
smile : 

“Here Ernestine, to begin with, wants to conquer 
the world with song, and receive elegant presents. 
Dearie, to conquer the world, the great, many- 
faced world, one’s head and heart must be capable 
and willing to assume any and every guise ; to 
stoop to every form of policy that secures the fickle 
smile; to bend to all its freaks, until it is subject 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


143 


to yours ; and after you had done this, after you had 
spent your life’s sweetest and purest years in studying the 
art of deceit and triumph, and had brought the beautiful 
wicked world to your feet, would you be quite happy? 
Could you ever be again the fresh, untouched, pure 
hearted creature that you are now? I’m afraid not, 
dear; and your warmest, greatest longing, would come 
back to home and girlhood, when you only knew 
the world’s wickedness by hearsay, when you owed 
it nothing, and never heard its grasping cry for pay 
for its homage. 

“Bea wants pretty clothes, and regrets that mother 
must work. Quite natural, dear, we 'all love pretty 
clothes, and I hope some time we can have all we want, 
providing it does not become a chief and selfish desire. 
Mother loves to work for her girls, and only regrets that 
it must take her from them so much of the time, for the 
dearest light to a mother’s life, the brightest cloud that 
receives that life’s setting sun, is found in the circle 
of her children’s faces. To go back to Bea, she wants 
some real lace ; I hope she may have it some time ; it is 
a beautiful and valuable addition to a lady’s wardrobe. 
But I am quite sure that the face of my Beatrice could 
never look lovelier over a garb of rarest and most ex- 
quisite workmanship than it does to-night, over a pretty 
linen band, with its womanly thoughtfulness and care.” 

Bea flushed joyfully, and bent lower over her sewing, 


144 


SIX GIRLS. 


while mother went on, with a glance at Kat’s expectant 
face : 

Next comes one of papa’s ‘boys ’ with such a hodge- 
podge of a disappointment, that I can hardly make out 
which part of it grieves her, or if any does. She don’t 
like pots and kettles, but they often teach us unromantic 
but necessary lessons that fans and perfumery never 
could. A wheel-barrow per day of butter-scotch would 
soon leave her more than she could manage or desire, 
and slippers with satin tops and high heels, would only 
prove themselves useless and injurious. She also says 
she has no talent, but she has • a rare and valuable one, 
that of making The best of all her little trials and griev- 
ances, of keeping her daily sunshine free from clouds, 
and making home happy with her cheerful, happy 
heart.” 

Kittie gave her mother’s hand a grateful squeeze, for 
praise given to either of the twins was dear to the other ; 
and Kat sank out of her sight in her chair, quite over- 
come, and resolved heartily to cultivate her talent to the 
uttermost. 

“Now, our other ‘boy,’” continued Mrs. Dering, 
smiling down into Kittie’s upturned face, “wants black 
eyes, don’t like dish-washing, and would like to travel. I 
wonder if she thinks I would give up these brave, true, 
trusty blue eyes, for all the black ones in the universe. 
They show what a warm, faithful heart lies within, a 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


145 * 


heart that shares its twin’s talent for making sunshine out 
of shadows, and home happy with its laughter. A life 
without a dish-pan misses a good disciplinarian, and, 
sometimes, a teacher of patience ; it ’s like pots and ket- 
tles — unpleasant but necessary, so the sooner we take 
hold, when we have it to handle, and the better the 
grace with which we handle it, just so much have we 
brought our rebellious likes and dislikes under control, 
and made the best of our duty. While you are getting 
ready to travel, dear, read the works of those who have 
travelled, have your mind fresh and ready to more heart- 
ily enjoy what others have seen and made immortal 
through the power of their pen, and if it is best that that 
pleasure should be given you, it will come at the right 
time. 

“Our Olive next. I wonder if she thinks that though 
her face was as exquisitely beautiful as the rarest pic- 
ture ever painted, that it could be any more precious 
to our sight, than it is now ; or if beauty of the loveliest 
type would be taken in exchange for the strong, earnest 
character and brave, true heart that is stamped in it. 
The most beautiful face may sometimes, by nature’s 
indelible portrayer, reveal itself soulless in heart and 
mind; and the plainest face possess an .irresistible 
charm, if it is allowed to interpret the emotions of a 
truly noble heart. I have no ambition that my little girl 
should paint the grandest pictures in the world, but I 


lO 


146 


SIX GIRLS. 


hope before long to give her instructions in the art that 
she loves, and then I want her to use to the uttermost, 
the beautiful talent God has given her, and though it 
should fall far short of being the grandest picture, I 
should be very happy, and quite content.*' 

Mrs. Dering began folding up her sewing as she 
finished, and the girls did likewise, looking as though 
they had taken the little talk to heart and were thinking 
over it. Olive went out for her account-books and her 
face wore a happier look, than any one could remember 
seeing there lately. Before they got through examining 
and comparing accounts, the other girls said good-night 
and went up stairs, and when the last book was pushed 
aside, Mrs. Dering put her arm around Olive, who sat on 
the stool at her feet, and looked down at her with a 
smile. 

I like this, dear,** she said, touching the ribbons. 

And you have made me so much happier to-night, by 
looking more happy, what is it dear? ** 

“Nothing, mama,’* answered Olive. “Only I came 
home early one day, when the girls did n’t know it, and I 
heard them talking about me. They said how queer and 
odd I was, and how they felt hurt, because I always 
stayed away from them, and some more things, and 
mama, I was so amazed. I always thought they did n’t 
want me, and I did n’t know which way to believe and 
I, — I just asked God to help me, and I guess He did. 


WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 


147 


It terrible hard work, though I Ve only tried it a few 
days. I ’m so ugly, and I Ve got such a dreadful 
temper, and always want to think the wrong way, but I 
notice that I really have been happier these few days ; 
and mama, to-night, you — ” Olive paused and looked 
up shyly, she did not often say such things and it cost 
something of a little effort to begin — you looked so 
happy and I could n’t help but feel that it was because 
you were glad, and I really am going to try all the 
harder now.*’ 


CHAPTER X. 


THE UTILE BLACK TRUNK. 

When Spring came, spirits and strength began to flag. 
Everything without was so alluring, that indoors and 
duties grew dreadfully monotonous and tiresome. Bea 
found that her sweeping and dusting fell terribly behind^ 
because she spent so much time sitting in the window- 
sills, and standing in the doors, where the sunshine was 
so temptingly clear and warm, and from where the yard 
and trees, so rapidly budding out, could be enjoyed. 
Olive dreaded her close dark counting-room, but said 
little about it, in the belief that complaining would n*t 
help. Ernestine’s four scholars lessened to two, and as 
the days grew warmer she spent much of the time on the 
lounge, looking listless, and betraying little interest in 
anything. 

Kittie and Kat, found that snatching moments from 
work, to take a race down the yard, or gather some par- 


THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 


149 


ticular cluster of fresh young blossoms, gave dish-water a 
chance to cool; or dust, left ready for taking up, to blow 
back to all corners of the room. Meals began to fall 
behind, but everybody was too warm and listless to eat 
much, or mind the tardiness. In short, everybody had 
the si)ring fever, but such ordinary complaint was not 
noticed, until, as the heat giew more debilitating, Bea 
said to her mother one evening, as they stood in the 
door, looking out into the soft still moonlight that lay so 
purely over the fresh early grass and blossoms: — 
“ Mama, seems to me Ernestine is not well.'’ 

Bea could not understand why her mother should start 
so, at such a slight intimation, or why*her face should 
look so anxious as she turned it. 

‘‘ Why, dear? ” 

“She lies down so much; it may be because the 
weather has turned warm so suddenly, but seems to me, 
she is so pale and quiet, and it is something so unusual, 
that I couldn’t help but notice it; but then, may 
be, it’s nothing after all.” 

“Only the weather, I fancy,” answered Mrs. Dering; 
but Bea saw that she looked uneasy,, and that all 
that evening she watched Ernestine, who lay on the 
lounge, more livelv than she had been for several days, 
with a sparkling light in her eyes, and a rich color in her 
face, that made her more beautiful than mother or sisters 
had ever seen her before. Bea watched her mother with 


150 


SIX GIRLS. 


some anxiety and no little curiosity. How sad and 
troubled her eyes looked, as they rested on Ernestine’s 
radiant face, while every now and then a tremble seized 
her lips, even while she smiled at the continual 
merry nonsense that seemed to possess '#he girls that 
night. 

Ernestine ’s going to run away,’* announced Kittie, 
presently, with some abruptness; but no one but Bea, 
who was on the alert, saw how her mother started, with a 
force that ran her needle clear under her thumb nail, 
or how excessively pale she was as she wiped off the 
little drops of blood. 

‘‘That I am,.” laughed Ernestine gayly. “Some 
of these fine mornings I ’ll be gone, and you ’ll find 
a touching little note on my pin -cushion ; and after I ’ve 
earned piles of glory and money, I ’ll come back in 
an elegant carriage, and set you all up in luxury.” 

Everybody laughed, and professed much impatience for 
the delightful time to arrive ; but Mrs. Bering pushed 
her sewing aside with an impatient hand that trembled, 
and proposed that Ernestine sing for tiiem, which she 
immediately did, with a bewildering bird-like witchery, 
that held them all entranced, and made the girls sigh 
more than once, that some of the flute-like tones had 
not been given to them, as their talent. 

Mrs. Bering’s last look and words, when she left 
next morning, were for Ernestine, who looked languid 


THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 


151 


and pale in the sunshine, with all her radiant sparkle and 
color gone, and no sound or look of song about her lips ; 
and after the hack had gone, and the girls returned to 
the house, Kat said to Kittie, with much resentment in 
her voice : 

‘‘ Ernestine always was the petted one in this family. 
Just see how anxious mama is about her having a little 
spring fever, and what an easy time she has, anyhow. 
Only two music scholars 1 I guess we ’ve got the spring 
fever just as bad as she has, but we have to work just as 
hard as ever, and I don’t think it ’s fair.” 

And Kittie, notwithstanding she had some such 
thoughts herself, answered promptly : 

Well, I suppose there ’s a reason of some kind, 
because you know Kat, mama never would do anything 
unfair. Perhaps she thinks Ernestine is more delicate 
than we are.” 

“ Delicate — fiddlesticks ! I Ve three minds to believe 
it ’s because she ’s got such big brown eyes and yellow 
hair, and is. so — well — so — ” 

“Ain’t you ashamed,” interrupted Kittie, slamming 
down her dishes. “To hint at such a thing, Kat 
Dering !” 

The very next evening that brought Mrs. Dering home, 
brought her with a proposition for Ernestine to go 
into the country for a week or two, giving her two pupils 
a vacation for that length of time. Perhaps it occurred 


152 


SIX GIRLS. 


to each of the girls that they needed the rest just as 
much, rf not a little more than Ernestine, and perhaps 
Mrs. Dering detected the look in their faces, for she 
sighed, and Bea discovered that the same sad look, only 
deepened and more anxious, lingered in her eyes ; and 
to show her repentance for a moment’s complaining 
thought, she entered heartily into Ernestine’s selfish 
joy. 

“Just think how I will ride horseback,” cried 
Ernestine, gayly. “ I must fix out a habit some way, 
mama, and girls, you must let me have all your pretty 
things, because Mrs. Raymond’s girls dress beautifully, 
and entertain a great deal.” 

“But my dear,” spoke her mother, “ I am sending you 
out there to rest, to enjoy their lovely home, and to 
grow stronger on country air, not to frolic and waste all 
your strength.” 

“ Oh, mama, what an idea ! ” laughed Ernestine. 
“Why, I’m not sick, I don’t need rest, all I want 
is a little fun and something gay. Look at Bea ; she ’s 
as pale as a little ghost ; you might talk about sending 
her out to the country to be quiet, and drink milk, 
but not me. I don’t need it.” And Ernestine nodded 
gayly to her own radiant reflection in the glass opposite ; 
then without waiting for any answer, jumped up and 
waltzed around the room. 

“What a blessing it is that Uncle Ridley gave us 


THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 


153 


the dresses. My purple is just as stylish as can be, only 
I do wish, mama, you’d have let me had a train to 
it ; I ’m so tall, and plenty old enough. Bea, will 
you let me have that pretty gilt butterfly that you fixed 
for your hair, and your gold cuff pins? I Ve lost one of 
mine, and they are always such an addition to one’s 
dress. Olive, you never wore your new black kids 
much ; let me take them, will you ? mine look worn, and 
I do love nice gloves ; they always mark a lady. And 
your new dress. I do need a black one dreadfully, and 
you say you never will wear yours, so you might just 
as well give it to me, — loan it, anyhow.” 

You may have it, for all I care,” answered Olive. 

But my gloves are one of the things that I cannot 
loan.” 

Nor the dress,” said Mrs. Dering, quickly. ‘‘You 
have quite enough dresses, Ernestine, and besides, 
Olive’s is from her Uncle Ridley, and she cannot give it 
away.” 

Ernestine couldn’t see any sense of having it lay 
upstairs in the drawer, though she did not say so ; 
^and privately thought that perhaps she could coax 
her mother around, since Olive was so willing. It proved 
quite a vain idea, however, though she made it her last 
request in the morning, before her mother left. 

“ No, Ernestine, I spoke quite as decidedly the first 
time you asked me. Be all ready to go by this day week, 


151 


SIX GIRLS. 


you have not much sewing to do. Good-bye, once more, 
my girls ; be careful of the lights, take good care of your- 
selves and do not get sick. Write to Jean to-morrow, a 
nice long letter and tell her everything. Good-bye.” 

So she went away again, and nothing discouraged at 
her inability to secure Olive’s dress, Ernestine danced 
gayly into the house and off to her room, to overlook, for 
the dozenth time, her little collection of trinkets, and to 
sing blithely over her dresses ; for she did possess the 
spirit of coming down cheerfully to any thing inevitable 
excepting work, and then, perhaps, mama would relent at 
the final moment, when she saw how much a black dress 
was really needed. 

‘‘ It ’s as lonesome as a desert, and Ernestine is selfish 
as a pig,” declared Kittie, subsiding gloomily on to the 
stairs as the hack rattled out of sight. 

Two solemn facts, but they won’t wash the dishes,” 
rejoined Kat, balancing over the bannisters, in a way that 
threatened immediate perpendicularity, with a change of 
base from what was customary. 

I hate dishes and dish-pans and everything,” ex- 
claimed Kittie with much vehemence. Any how, this is 
your week to wash, and mine to wipe ; go along and get 
the old things ready, and I ’ll be out in a minute.” 

‘‘ I ’ll change with you next week,” said Beatrice turn- 
ing from the door, where she had stood contemplatively. 
“ You and Kat may tend to all the sweeping, and dusting. 


,THE LITLLE BLACK TRUNK. 


155 


and keeping the house in order, and I ’ll do the kitchen 
work.” 

‘^Hurrah, will you?” cried Kittie, flying up from her 
despondent attitude. You ’re a jewel, Bea, shake hands.” 

Bea surrendered her hand with some misgiving, right- 
fully conjecturing that it would receive a shake and twist 
of over-powering heartiness in the high tide of Kittie ’s 
spirits ; and that young lady, having done her best to 
dislocate that useful member, rushed off to impart the 
news to Kat, and swing her dish rag jubilantly. 

The change of instruments, as the girls said, took place 
Monday morning. Bea awoke, to find her bed-posts or- 
namented variously, with a dish-pan, a flaunting rag and 
two scrupulously neat towels, while there was a sound of 
revelry in the lower hall, which would indicate that the 
twins were up, and at their new branch of work, with a 
vigor which novelty always imparts to labor. Not that 
there was anything so novel to a broom or dust-pan, but 
they were so tired of their work, that Bea’s really seemed 
delightful and easy and much to be envied. 

You must have been anxious to get to work,” said 
that sister, coming down the stairs with her post orna- 
ments, and interrupting a lively skirmish, where brooms 
flew around through the air, with a cheerful disregard for 
the swinging lamp, or any one’s head. 

“Anxious to get through, you mean,” laughed Kat,. 
throwing down her weapon, and tumbling her dishevelled 


156 


SIX GIRLS. 


hair into a net. Hollo, Kittie, your comers are swept 
cleaner ’n mine.’’ 

Of course,” answered Kittie complacently, and turn- 
ing her broom right end up, in a spasm of housewifely 
care. ‘‘You better go to work and do yours over ; that’s 
in the bargain, isn’t it, Bea?” 

“Work to be done well,” said Bea, surveying Kat’s 
comers with a critical eye. “ And those are not clean ; 
you ’ve slipped right by them.” 

“Just as well,” asserted Kat, whisking her broom about 
and scattering the dust that disgraced a small corner over 
such extent of surface that it could not be noticed. 

That ’s the way. What ’s the use of being so particular ? ” 

Bea shook her head and declared it would n’t do, then 
gave to Kittie the overwhelming responsibility of keeping 
Kat straight, and departed for the kitchen. 

“Set the blind to lead the blind,” laughed Kat, spin- 
ning about on her heels, and finishing up with a hearty 
hug for Kittie, and the penitent remark : “ You are get- 

ting lots better than I, that ’s a fact ; and I must begin to 
brush up and sober down, or I ’ll be the black sheep of 
the flock, — as if I wasn’t always that But you really 
are getting terrible good, Kittie; I’ve seen it fora long 
time and it makes me uncomfortable ; spin around and 
be gay like you used to.” 

“Nonsense,” laughed Kittie, then looked sober, and 
sat down upon the stairs suddenly. “ I ’m not good, Kat, 


THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 


157 


it isn’t that; I don’t know how to be ; but some way, I 
can’t be as terribly wild and gay as I used to be, there 
seems to be so much more to think about now, and seems 
to me we ought to help think as much as the others, and 
besides, I don’t think we ought to be so wild any more ; 
why, Kat, we’re in our teens 1 ” 

“ Suppose we are, dear me ! ” cried Kat, standing off 
and surveying her sister with a sort of vague alarm,. 
‘Svhat ever is the matter with this family? Olive is get- 
ting so pleasant, and wears ribbons, and you ’re not going 
to be wild any more, and have gone to thinking; you’ll 
both die next thing, good people always die ; and any- 
how, my fun’s all up. I never can be gay if you sit 
around so solemn and goody-goody;” and Kat rumpled 
up her hair and looked desperate. 

‘‘ The idea, what a speech ! ” exclaimed Kittie, looking 
as if her new resolutions had received a shock. ‘‘ As if I 
couldn’t be sensible without being goody-goody, what- 
ever that is. Pick up your broom and don’t worry, my 
dear. I ’ll never die of being too good. 

Nevertheless, Kat looked forlorn all the rest of the day, 
and had spells of solemnly surveying Kittie, as though 
some wonderful change had taken place, and a pair of 
wings, or some equally astonishing thing might be the 
result. Next morning was as beautiful as a spring morn- 
ing ever could be, and Kat took much comfort in the 
fact, that, in her haste to get out to the pond, Kittie flew 


158 


SIX GIRLS. 


about the sitting-room in a hurry, whisked the dirt under 
the stove, didn’t stop to dust, except a rapid skim over 
the top, left the piano shut, neglected to put fresh flowers 
under father’s portrait, and shut the blinds so as to hide 
all defects under a comfortable shielding gloom. Kat 
looked on and felt relieved. Kittie wasn’t going to be so 
dreadfully good and proper after all, and much consoled, 
Kat put on her hat, and dashed out to the pond, where 
Kittie was already sailing about, with her head still orna- 
mented in a dust-cap. 

Bea had watched their early departure from the field 
of work, with some misgiving, and decided to go and 
take a view of the house as soon as she got the dishes 
put away, but just at that moment, the door bell rang ; and 
dear me, what should she do? The twins were at the 
farthest end of the pond, yelling like bedlamites, Bea de- 
clared. Ernestine had finished her small share of work, 
then put on her cocked-up hat with a blue bow, and gone 
down town ; so there was no one left to see to the door, 
and smoothing down her hair, Bea hurried through the 
hall with flushed cheeks and some anxiety. 

True to a prophetic feeling which possessed her, the 
opening of the door disclosed to view the last person to 
be desired, on that, or any other morning : Miss Strong, a 
regular Dickenson ian old maid. 

‘‘ Good morning, sweet child ! ” she exclaimed, the 
moment Bea’s dismayed face presented itself. 


THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 


159 


^^Good morning, Miss Strong; will you come in?^' 
Come in ? Surely, dear. I want to see you all ; and 
then I hear that you and your sisters are such model little 
housekeepers, and I think it is so lovely that you all, in 
your heart-rending afflictions, should bow so meekly be- 
neath God’s chastening rod, and put your shoulders to 
the wheel.’’ 

Bea opened the sitting-room door in fear and trem- 
bling, and blinded by the spring sunshine, Miss Strong 
walked into the dark room, in her girlish, hasty way, and 
immediately stumbled over a footstool, and landed at 
full length on the lounge, with such force that she 
dropped her beaded reticule, and knocked her bonnet 
off. 

‘^Oh, I am so sorry,” cried Bea, running to pick up the 
things, and return them to the startled and scarlet-faced 
spinster. I don’t know why Kittie shut the blinds, she 
oughtn’t to.” 

‘‘No, I should say she hadn’t, I should, indeed,” 
returned Miss Strong, putting on her bonnet with a 
jerk, and snapping her reticule. “ It ’s a sinful shame, the 
way some people keep their houses dark as dungeons, to 
hide dirt and dust. I have heard that you were neat 
housekeepers, but I can’t help having my opinion of 
people who shut out every speck of light, and trip up 
respectable people in this way.” 

Poor Bea’s face burned and burned, and her. heart 


160 


SIX GIRLS. 


throbbed faster as she went to the window, to open the 
blinds, feehng that her reputation was at stake, and that 
the first ray of light would kindle the faggots. Not a 
speck of dust, from the ceiling down, would escape Miss 
Strong’s eagle eyes, and oh, how she would talk about it ! 
Well, it was done ; she threw them open, and turned 
around in the calmness of despair. The glaring sunshine 
came boldly in, and danced over tjie dusty table, over 
the top of the piano, where you might have written your 
name, right under the stove where the dirt lay thick, all 
around the corners, into Miss Strong’s scornful, roving 
eyes, and into Bea’s burning face. Miss Strong was 
angry. She never liked to be seen or heaid under a dis- 
advantage, and she .surely had received an unreconcilable 
insult just now. Besides, she always went about seeking 
whom she might devour; she wore little spit-curls all 
over her sallow, wrinkled forehead, had a hooked nose, a 
long, sharp chin, a dried-apple mouth, and two fiercely 
bright eyes, that looked clear througli you, and plainly 
indicated that she thought you all wrong, and at fault. 
Whenever she heard any one praised, she immediately 
set about finding a flaw somewhere, and heralded it to 
the world, as soon as found. She knew the Dering fam- 
ily were not as nice and worthy of praise and sympathy, 
as people seemed to think, and she had come this morn- 
ing on purpose to find out, and then correct the deluded 
public mind. She was quite satisfied, and the I-told- 


THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 


IGI 


you-so ” spirit was so jubilant within her, that she could 
hardly keep from flaunting it before Bea’s distressed face. 
She satisfied herself, however, with looking at each dusty 
article with great care, brushing some imaginary specks 
from her dress, settling her bonnet, and asking abruptly ; 

‘‘ How *s your mother? I haven’t long to stay.” 

She was quite well, thank you, the last time she was 
home,” answered Bea, watching those eagle eyes in 
terror. 

Umph ! Pity she can’t stay home,” said Miss Strong, 
once more taking in the room with an unmistakable 
glance. 

‘‘ It ’s very lonely without her,” assented Bea, catching 
sight of the wilted flowers under her father’s portrait, and 

fervently hoping that her visitor’s eye would not see them. 

• ' 

But vain hope ! Miss Strong’s eyes went straight from 
the dirt under the stove up to the neglected vase, and 
she smiled in a way, that made Bea long to jump up and 
scream. 

I have often wanted to see your father’s portrait, and 
I have heard what beautiful flowers you always kept 
under it. So lovely ! ” 

We do,” answered Bea, with much dignity, and 
flashing a resentful glance at Miss Strong. “ Papa loved 
flowers dearly, and we always love to have them under 
his picture ; but Kittie must have been in a hurry, and 
forgotten it this morning.” 


162 


SIX GIRLS. 


In-deed/’ said Miss Strong slowly. But excuse 
me, pray do, I w^ouldn’t have spoken of it, but I 
supposed, of course, that this room had not been ar- 
ranged for the day yet.^’ 

“ Well, it is very early,” retorted Bea, stung quite out 
of her patient politeness ; and Miss Strong got up im- 
mediately, shutting her mouth with a vicious snap : 

^‘I^m sure I wouldn’t have called so early,” she said 
shortly. ‘^But I am soliciting for the Church Fund, and 
having heard how exceedingly generous and willing you 
all were to give to all such causes, I made my first call 
here, confident that it would yield me encouragement.” 

Poor Bea colored violently again, remembering that she 
only had enough money to pay the grocery bill, due to- 
morrow, and yet Miss Strong had made her feel as 
though she must give something; every one would ex- 
pect it. , 

I ’m very sorry,” she said, slowly. But I really can- 
not this morning.” 

‘‘In-deed,” said Miss Strong again. “But then, 
people will be mistaken once in a while; I must bid 
you good morning, Miss Dering ; ” and out she stalked, 
before Bea could gain her breath. 

When Kittie and Kat came in from the pond a little 
while later, they found Bea, lying on the lounge and 
sobbing, with a despairing energy, that excited their live- 
liest alarm, and made all horrible things seem possible. 


THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 


163 


from mother’s death down to tlie breaking of the cher- 
ished family teapot. Bea told her story, but hadn’t room 
to remonstrate, for the sobs that caught her breath ; and 
the girls listened in grave alarm. 

‘‘Who cares for old Polly Strong?” cried Kat, with 
defiant irreverence, and throwing her hat to the 
ceiling. 

“ Well, I ’m sorry,” cried Kittie, running to comfort 
the prostrate chief. “ It ’s all my fault ; Kat swept the 
parlor this morning and I cleaned in here. Oh, I am 
ashamed, and so sorry, Bea dear.” 

“ Well — well, I think it ’s too — too bad,” sobbed Bea, 
uncomforted. “She talked so mean, and — and — she’ll 
tell everybody that — that — I’m no housekeeper, and 
then — then, mama — ” 

“ If she does,” interrupted Kat fiercely, “ I ’ll tell 
every mortal man, woman and child, in turn, that she’s 
a meddling old thing, if they don’t know it already ; and 
I ’ll tell them just the truth about this room, too.” 

“ It was horrible in me,” sighed Kiltie in great self- 
reproach. “And^ when you were so kind as to change, 
too. We ’ll go right back to the dishes, Bea, and not 
disgrace your work any more, and I ’ll go right to work 
and clean this room decent, so that everything will shine 
until you can see your face in it.” 

By this time Ernestine’s wardrobe was pretty near 
ready to go upon her visit. She had exercised her inge- 


164 


SIX GIRLS. 


nuity in making few things look their best and go a long 
way ; and her selfishness in getting every available thing 
from the girls, without ever expressing a wish that they 
were going to share the pleasure ; because, she reasoned 
in her mind, if they were going, she could n’t have all 
their pretty things, so better be still, than express an un- 
truthful desire. On the day after the Strong visit, she 
came from down-town, and walked up to the house, very 
much as if she were a little ashamed to go in, but which 
she did, with an assumption of indifference, and came 
into the room where the girls were sitting. 

I ’ve got the last things,” she said with a laugh, tinged 
with an uneasiness that no one noticed, and unwrapping 
a small parcel. 

What? ” asked Bea, glancing up with interest ; then 
looked at the open paper, and did not say another 
word. 

Kitiie and Kat did likewise, and in a moment Ernes- 
tine broke the silence with an impatient laugh. 

*‘Well. what do you all look so horrified at? It was 
my own money, I guess, and precious little at that.” 

What did you pay for them ? ” asked Bea gravely. 

‘‘These — ” Ernestine held up a pair of snowy kids, 
with three buttons — “ I got for a dollar and a half, cheap, 
because one finger is a little soiled. This — ” lifting a 
creamy tip, with pale blue shading — “was two dollars^ 
Won’t it look lovely in my black hat?” 


THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 


165 


Yes, it will look lovely/* said Bea slowly ; she was 
really too astonished and hurt to say any more ; but Kat 
cried out explosively : 

‘‘ Oh Ernestine Bering ! you selfish, selfish, old — pig, 
you — ** “ Know mama wants shoes,’* interrupted Kittie, 
with her voice full of indignant tears. And you heard 
her say the last time she was home, that she did not want 
to spend the money for them, and here you spend three 
dollars and a half for — ** 

Things that I want,** finished Ernestine, getting up 
and pushing her chair away. “ I *ve worked hard, and I 
think I might spend a very little bit of my own money. 
You all don’t seem to think so, and you ’re not very 
pleasant, so I *11 just leave you unwl you are in a better 
humor.” 

With that she went out, feeling really as though she 
were more aggrieved than agp^ressor, and stillness followed 
her departure. 

She’s worked hard?” cried Kittie at length, with in- 
dignant scorn. Very hard ; but mama has n’t, nor we 
have n*t — ” 

Oh don’t, please,” exclaimed Bea, bursting into tears. 

Don’t say anything, girls ; I don’t know what I had n’t 
rather have, than for mama to know that Ernestine would 
do such a thing. Oh, I wish she need never to know it.” 

It did not take much thought to decide Ernestine, that 
she was much abused, and though her usually laggard 


166 


SIX GIRLS. 


conscience insisted on being touched, she solaced it by 
putting the tip in her hat, and seeing how becoming it 
was, and by trying on the gloves, which were a perfect fit. 
Then putting them away, she stole off to the garret, to 
carryout a plan, made in secrecy — that of rummaging 
the packed trunks there, and perhaps finding something 
that could be turned into a party dress, which she was 
quite sure she would need. The garret was roomy and 
sunny, and all the rest of the afternoon, Ernestine com- 
forted herself and her abused feelings by hunting among 
the old trunks, and spinning many gay dreams, wherein 
she dwelt in luxury, and all that heart could wish. She 
had selected a pale green silk, and a fine soft lawn from 
her mother’s put aside wardrobe, and her mind’s eye saw 
herself most becomingly, and beautifully dressed in 
them — if mama would only consent. 

Over in the corner, something caught her eye presently, 
that she had never seen before. Only a small dark 
trunk with an air of secrecy about it ; and something 
irresistibly took her right over to it, with her arm load of 
gay things. 

I wonder what it is,” she mused, fingering the lock 
curiously, and feeling so strange as she did so. 

“ Go away ! ” something seemed to say imperatively ; 
but she lingered, and fingered more curiously than ever 
the small key attached to a faded ribbon. 

Go away ! Go away !” seemed to come again that 


THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 


167 


voice, and she felt it to her inmost soul ; but the very 
realization of an inward warning against it, urged her on. 
She put the key in the lock, — and hesitated ; turned it 
slowly, — and hesitated again ; then broke into a nervous 
little laugh, and tossed the cover open. 

Why I ’m as cold as ice, what a goose I Now lets 
see what ’s in this wonderful trunk to make me feel so 
funny ; something splendid I guess, but I could n’t help 
opening k, I really could n’t, — oh dear ! ” 

It was of disappointment, for there was nothing there 
but a queer old basket, a pillow, witli a plain little slip, and 
a worn faded letter on top. 


CHAPTER XI. 


WHERE IS ERI^ESllNE? 

The odor of hot cakes brought everybody in a hurry, 
when Kat opened the dining-room door, and shouted, 
supper ! ’* as though she was a pop-gun and the single 
word a deadly fire, and everybody had fallen to work at 
demolishing the pile of aforesaid cakes, before Bea looked 
up suddenly and asked : 

“ Where is Ernestine ? ” 

Nobody knew, but Kat ventured, that perhaps she was 
going to supper it, on gloves and feathers. 

You better call again, Kat, perhaps she did n*t hear.’^ 
So Kat rushed to the door, and shouted : 

“ Er-nes tin-e-e, cakes are getting cold,” with an 
amount of energy and noise that might have reached 
that young •lady, had she been sitting on the top-most 
round of the fai thest chimney ; but there was no response 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE ? 


169 


of any kind, neither was there any indications of a light 
up stairs, so Kat went back, remarking, as she again fell 
to work : 

‘‘ She 's put on her new toggery, most likely, and 
^one somewhere.** 

‘‘ But where should she go? ** asked Bea with a strange 
uneasiness. 

“ Anywhere, just so people see her new things, and 
say how pretty she looks,*’ answered Kat, who was not 
uneasy. 

So they eat supper and waited ; but no appearance of 
the delinquent. The twins began to clear up, putting a 
good supply in the oven to keep warm ; but the dishes 
were through with, and all put away, and no Ernestine. 
Kittie began to feel anxious and worried, but Kat made 
fun of her, though she herself began to grow more quiet, 
as the evening went on. Eight. Nine. No Ernestine. 
What should they do? 

Bea sprang up from her seat at the window, all in 
a pale tremor. 

“ I cannot stand it. Oh, Olive, what shall we do? ** 

“ Why, I don’t know,” said Olive, putting down 
the book in which she had read nothing. “ Have you 
looked for her hat and cloak? ” 

No. No one had. So they all rushed up stairs, 
as though it required five pairs of eyes to discover / 
a hat and cloak, which was found lying on the bed, just 


170 


SIX GIRLS. 


as she had thrown them on coming up stairs. Bea went 
to her boxes, with a vague idea that the gloves and 
feather were in some way connected with the mystery ; 
but they were put away with greatest, possible care, and 
Kat, who always did the absurd things in hasty moments, 
reported that all her clothes and dresses were in their 
places, so she couldn't have gone away. 

“ Of course not; there *s no place for her to go to,*^ 
answered Olive. 

Mrs. Dane’s, perhaps,” suggested Kittie. 

This was plausible. 

“ But what would she go for?” asked Bea in a moment. 

And without any hat or shawl, and stay so late?” 

Nobody knew, and all looked irresolute and anxious. 

Her blue shawl is gone,” exclaimed Kat, in the 
midst of her second rummage in the closet ; for what, 
no one knew, since it was impossible for Ernestine to be 
hanging over a hook ; or settled in one of her pockets. 
‘‘ And her straw hat !” 

At that, all five dived into the closet, with no clearly 
defined purpose, but it seemed the only things to do just 
then ; and in the scramble that followed, the missing 
straw hat was found on the floor, but no blue shawl kept 
its company. They all took hold of it in turn, looking at 
it solemnly, and turning it over and over, as though it 
possessed the secret of its missing mistress. But if it 
knew, it kept its knowledge, and only flapped its ribbons 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 


171 


in feeble protest at being twisted about so. No one 
said any thing, until Bea discovered two long golden 
hairs clinging to the straw, then she threw it down, and 
burst into tears. Everybody looked aghast, and Bea 
cried out between her sobs : 

I can’t help it — indeed — I feel as if something 
dreadful had happened — and I’m so frightened.” 

Just then the clock struck ten, such slow solemn 
strokes, echoing through the still house, and everybody 
shivered drearily, and looked fearfully out into the dark 
hall ; wishing, oh, how fervently, that mother was home. 
Bea stopped crying with a great effort, and seemed to feel 
that she must do something — but what? She looked at 
the girls in anxious inquiry. Kittie and Kat were sitting 
on the bed, trembling and frightened. Olive was so 
dreadfully pale and still ; and Beatrice was nearly at her 
wits end. 

Perhaps — perhaps — ” ventured Kittie, looking 
around as though her voice frightened her : she may 
be trying to frighten us ; you know we were a little fussy 
when she came up stairs this afternoon.” 

Nobody seemed to think so, it might be a rather good 
joke, but Ernestine wouldn’t keep it up until ten 
o’clock. 

‘‘ Lets look in the rooms and then go down stairs,” 
said Olive taking up the light. Perhaps she has gone to 
Mrs. Dane’s after all, and is staying late to frighten us, 


172 


SIX GIRLS. 


as Kittie says. Come on, and when she comes, don’t 
pretend to be surprised or a bit scared.” 

This being Olive’s first suggestion, it was received as 
bearing some weight, as indeed suggestions and advice 
always are when they come from people who do not 
always have them at tongue’s end, ready for all, or any 
occasions. A little brighter feeling dawned upon the 
forlorn group, as they went to the twin’s and Olive’s 
rooms, without finding any trace, and then returned to 
the sitting-room. Bea half hoped and expected that 
they would find Ernestine sitting by the fire, full of 
laugh, and ready to tease them on their fright and 
search ; but she was disappointed, for the room was 
dreary and lonely, the light wood fire having died of 
neglect; and ever)'thing looked unutterably forlorn to 
their anxious eyes. In an ominous silence all four sat 
down on the lounge, closely huddled together, and tried 
to talk ; but it was a vain attempt. It seemed impossible 
to bring any voice low enough so as that it did not sound 
like a trumpet in the painful stillness of the house ; every 
one jumped when any one spoke, so by and by, they 
were perfectly still, while the clock ticked so loudly and 
every moment brought a deeper fear and trembling 
anxiety. 

Eleven ! Twelve ! 

“ Let us go to bed,” whispered Olive. Somehow it 
seemed that whispering was the only admissible thing 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 


173 


then. See, the lamp was not filled fresh to-day, and it 's 
burning down ; we ’ll be in the dark in a few minutes. 

“ Oh, I ’m so afraid,” quavered Kat. Lets all sleep 
together.” 

No one seemed to object, for really it was something 
to chill even a brave heart. Those four girls alone in the 
great still house at midnight, with the terrible fear at their 
hearts, and their wildest imagination in full play. They 
went up stairs as softly as though Ernestine lay dead in 
the house ; and all went with their eyes shut except 
Olive, who carried the lamp, and even she kept her eyes 
away from everything save right where she walked. No 
one had cried yet but Bea ; so when they knelt about the 
bed for prayer, each one broke down, and they finally 
dropped asleep, sobbing softly, with their arms about each 
other. 

Morning came, with the brightest of sunshine, and put 
a more cheerful face upon things, as daylight always does. 
The girls jumped up merrily, quite convinced that it was 
all a joke, and that they were foolish to have been so 
frightened. Ernestine had gone to Mrs. Dane’s and 
stayed all night ; she would be home pretty soon and 
they would all have a good laugh over it. So they 
thought, and flew about lively with their work; but 
breakfast was over and cleaned up, the house was all in 
order, and the day fairly begun ; still no Ernestine had 
arrived, and Olive had not gone. 


174 


SIX GIRLS. 


Seems to me, I can’t go until we know something,” 
she said, standing in the door and looking down the 
street. I will be home to dinner, and surely she will be 
here by that time.” 

‘‘ I suppose so, of course,” said Bea, feeling last night’s 
fear beginning to tug at her heart again. 

Seems to me nothing could happen with a morning 
so lovely as this,” said Kittie, looking anxious and 
sleepy. 

^Vell, I suppose I must go,” said Olive at last. 
^‘I ’m an hour late now, and I don’t know what to tell 
Mr. Dane ; but then, it ’s the first time I ’ve ever been 
tardy, so he may not speak of it.” 

‘‘ If she comes pretty soon, I ’ll trot down and tell 
you,” volunteered Kat, who was stretching on the stairs, 
and pretty near strangling with a succession of gasps. 

‘‘All right,” said Olive, going out reluctantly. 

Morning went slowly and heavily; the girls tried to 
study as usual, but found it impossible. There was only 
one thought in their minds ; Ernestine ! Ernestine ! 
where was she? 

“ Kittie,” said Bea, when it was nearly noon, “ Olive is 
so tired, I expect, being worried and up so late, and then 
bothering over her business this morning, suppose you 
take her dinner down to her, and then go round by Mrs. 
Dane’s?” 

“All right,” answered Kittie, glad of something to 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 175 

work off her feverish impatience. ^‘You fix the basket, 
while I run up stairs and get ready ; it will only take me 
a minute.” 

Olive was sitting at her desk, very pale and tired, when 
Kittie came in. She looked up eagerly, but in a glance, 
each saw that the other knew nothing. 

1 brought your dinner,” said Kittie, putting down 
the basket, “because — she hasn’t come, and we 
thought you ’d be so tired.” 

“ I am, and so much obliged,” answered Olive, with a 
grateful smile, thinking, as she put the lunch aside, how 
kind it was, for Kittie was tired too ; and thinking also, 
that a few weeks ago they would n’t have done so ; but 
that had been much her own fault, she was quite con- 
vinced of it now. 

“ Mr. Dane went to the city on this morning’s train,” 
she said in a moment, “ so I have not seen him.” 

“ I ’m going there,” answered Kittie. “ Mrs. Dane’s, 
I mean. If Ernestine is there, I ’ll come back by here 
and tell you, and if 1 don’t come you ’ll know that I 
haven’t heard anything.” 

They both felt that nothing would be heard, but each 
said good-bye cheerfully, and Kittie hurried away. 

Mrs. Dane was a dear, motherly-hearted lady who had 
no children of her own, and consequently felt a warm 
interest in any one’s else. She had kept a watchful, lov- 
ing eye on the Dering girls, especially, since their 


176 


SIX GIRLS. 


troubles, going to see them frequently, and dropping 
much comfort and encouragement in all that she said 
and did. When she saw Kiltie coming, she met her at 
the door, with a warm, cheery smile and inquired 
gayly : 

“ Good morning, my dear ; what is going to happen 
that you are without your mate? and which one are 
you?’^ 

Kittie laughed as she went up the neat little walk, 
with early violets blooming either side, but Mrs. Dane 
noticed that she looked anxiously beyond her, into the 
house, and that her face was pale and worried, some- 
thing unheard of, for either of the twins. 

I ’m Kittie, and Kat was too busy to come,” an- 
swered Kittie, as they went in, and she wondered what 
she should say next. 

‘‘ It looks strange to ever see you without each other,” 
said Mrs. Dane, detecting an uneasiness. All well at 
home, dear ? ” 

^‘Yes’m, pretty well, except spring fever.” 

‘‘I saw Ernestine down town yesterday afternoon, and 
I thought she looked quite pale, but very pretty,” con- 
tinued Mrs. Dane. 

Yes ’m,” said Kittie again, with her heart jumping 
into her throat. “ Mama is going to have her go out to 
Mrs. Raymond's for two weeks. Has she been by here 
this morning?” 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 


177 


‘‘ Not that I have seen. I should think it a very good 
plan for her to be in the country a while, if she will only 
be quiet ; the Raymond home is a very lovely one. I 
notice here lately that she coughs a good deal.’* 

“ Yes ’m,” answered Kittie, guiltily conscious that she 
had n’t noticed it. I hope it is n’t much though.” 

“Nothing more than a spring cold, I fancy; you must 
all be very careful. Now, my dear, take off your hat, 
and stay to dinner with me. I’m all alone, to-day.” 

“I should like to; thank you, Mrs. Dane, but Bea 
will be expecting me home, and I guess I had better 
go,” said Kittie, so intensely disappointed with her call 
that she could hardly keep the tears back. So she 
went, and Mrs. Dane soliloquized, as she recalled the 
troubled face. “Something the matter, I am quite posi- 
tive ; and those poor, dear, brave little gills all alone. I 
shall go over this evening and see if I am needed.” 

Kat was at the gate, and started out the moment she 
saw Kittie coming, to meet her. She was quite as ashy 
colored as ever brown-faced, rosy-cheeked Kat could be, 
and she was trembling as with a fit of ague, and as 
Kittie saw her, the question died on her lips, and she 
could only look her fear, as Kat burst forth : — 

“She hasn’t come — don’t know anything about her; 
but Bea went up in the garret this morning to open the 
windows, and ever since she came down, she ’s been 
crying and pretty near fainted ; won’t tell me anyihing. 


178 


SIX GIRLS. 


and I thought you never would come. What shall we 
do?’^ 

‘‘Oh, I don’t know; why didn’t I tell Mrs. Dane? 
I felt as if I ought to,” cried Kittie, standing still in 
despair for a moment ; then pulling off her hat and 
shawl, she put them on her sister in a hurry. 

“There, Kat, run ; I’m so tired, you can go the fast- 
est ; go to Mr. Phillips, ask him to take Prince and go 
for mama, quick ; ” and, without a second thought, Kat 
dashed down the street at her most breathless flying 
speed, not caring who saw, or what they thought, and 
feeling as though she had done the right thing. Kittie 
hurried into the house ; she was alarmed, indeed, at the 
violence of Bea’s crying, and after trying in vain to find 
some cause, or give some comfort, gave up in despair. 

“ Don’t ask me,” Bea would cry, when questioned. 
“ I can’t tell ! Oh, if mama was only here ! What shall 
Ido?” 

“ I ’ve sent for her ! ” exclaimed Kittie, with a great 
sigh of relief. “ Kat has gone now to ask Mr. Phillips, 
and she’ll be here this afternoon, I know.” 

Bea looked up for an instant, with a flash of relief in 
her face, then burst out again, crying more bitterly than 
ever, and with a vehemence that shook her from head to 
foot. 

“What ever can it be?” thought Kittie, flying up 
stairs, and off to the garret in desperation ; but. 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 


179 


pausing as she reached the door, and shaking with 
a sudden terror. What if Ernesiine should be in there 
dead, or something? She shook and hesitated, but 
finally opened the door, for Kittie was brave, and 
looked in I 

Nothing seemed to be the matter. The sunshine 
came warmly in at the windows and illumined every cor- 
ner. The little black trunk stood there, but it was 
closed, and she did not notice it, though she went all 
around, and amazed to find nothing out of place. Over 
in an unused corner, for the garret was very large, stood 
a big dry-goods box that Mr. Dering had long kept some 
things packed in, but on the very day before his sudden 
death, he had been up in the garret, unnailed the heavy 
cover, and gone to the bottom for some things that he 
wanted, and then hurried away, intending to repack, and 
nail up, on his return ; but in the little act, was a mighty 
working of Providence, or fate ; the box had remained 
just so, with its dislodged contents at its side, the little 
black trunk among them, and the garret having been 
rarely entered during the winter, it had not been noticed 
or remedied. 

Kittie, happening to glance that way, saw it ; and with 
a vague idea that Ernestine might be in the box, 
went over to it, pushed the little black trunk nearer, and 
stood on it to look in; but saw only a confused lot 
of things, tumbled up in her father’s haste, and so 


180 


SIX GIRLS. 


she got down, and left the garret slowly, more perplexed 
and bewildered than ever. 

As she went down the stairs, she heard, she surely 
heard an unmistakable moan, that stopped her in an 
instant, and made her heart beat fast and loud with 
terror ; and as she stood and listened, it came again, and 
it did not come from the garret either. 

As I said, Kittie was brave. Kat would have torn 
wildly down stairs, and declared that the house was 
haunted ; but she stood there, quite still, until that feeble 
moan came again ; then with a thought as quick as 
lightning, she cleared the remaining steps with one jump, 
flew across the hatl, and into the spare room ! 

There, at last, after all these hours of painful anxiety 
and fright, there, so near, that by simply opening 
an unused door, they would have found her — lay 
Ernestine. 

As Kittie burst into the room, Ernestine tossed her 
arms above her head, and uttered that feeble moan 
again ; and too astonished to utter a word of any kind^ 
Kittie saw that she was unconscious, that her face was 
scarlet with fever, and that the dazed, wide open eyes 
recognized nothing. 

She never exactly remembered how she got down 
stairs, and told Bea; or how it happened that Kat 
was with them when they went back ; she only knew 
that Bea threw down her handkerchief, and worked swift 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 


181 


and silent, that she helped, and that Kat flew off again to 
bring Mrs. Dane, and was back in just a nioment, 
for that lady, being so forcibly impressed with an 
idea that something was wrong, had started over, 
and met Kat just a few minutes after she came tearing 
out of the gate. 

It did not take long to get Ernestine into her own bed, 
to bathe her burning hands and face, and smooth 
her tangled hair, that lay all over the pillow like stray sun- 
beams. She submitted passively to ’ all of it, and 
appeared to notice no one, except now and then to turn 
her eyes to Mrs. Dane, with a puzzled, pleading look, 
and mutter with a wistful longing: ‘‘It isn’t so, is it? 
I know it is n’t then would drift into some unintelligible 
murmurings, or lay quiet with no expression of any kind 
in her face. 

“ She was perfectly well yesterday,” said Bea, in 
answer to Mrs. Dane’s questions. “ She came up stairs 
singing, about four o’clock, and that was the last we saw 
of her until just now, when Kiltie found her.” 

“ Poor child ! What did you do all night? ” 

“We sat up until twelve o’clock, and it seemed like a 
week nearly, Olive said, and we all hoped that she had 
gone to spend the night with you, and that is what kept 
us from giving up entirely. We were having, a little 
argument when she left us,” added Bea, dropping 
her eyes, but feeling that a little explanation was neces- 


182 


SIX GIRLS. 


sary. ** So we thought perhaps she went off without 
saying anything, so as to frighten us.” 

Kittie looked at Bea in curious amazement. She was 
so rejoiced that Ernestine was found, that she wondered 
why Bea should still be so white and tremble, and 
sit down every once in a while, as though too faint 
to stand. Finally concluding that it was fatigue and 
worrying, Kittie hurried down to the kitchen, built a 
fire, and had water boiling for tea in a hurry, and in 
just a little while, brought a cup of that invigorating 
beverage, and insisted on Bea’s drinking it, and another, 
too, if she could. 

How kind you are,” said Bea, looking grateful, and 
trying to smile, but failing utterly. “ You better go and 
drink some yourself. Where is Kat?” 

‘‘ She rushed right off again to tell Olive,” answered 
Kittie, sitting down on the floor. Poor dear, she will 
be tired to death. Oh, Bea, aren’t you glad we found 
her before mama came?” 

Bea nodded yes, and hid her face in the tea-cup, while 
Kittie hearing Kat down stairs, hurried down to have 
a social and rejoicing cup of tea with her. 

Mrs. Bering arrived late in the afternoon ; the 
twins threw open the big gate, shouting the good news as 
they did so, and Prince came gay ly up the old familiar 
drive with a joyous whisk of his tail, and a loud neigh of 
recognition, and as Kittie and Kat fell to hugging him 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 


183 


wildly, Mrs. Dering hurried into the house, and was met 
by Bea at the door. 

‘‘Were is she? What does it all mean?” cried the 
terrified mother. 

“ She was in the spare room — sick — we found her this 
afternoon,” answered Bea, speaking as though the words 
choked her. “ Come — come into the sitting-room, 
mama, and — let me tell you.” 

Mrs. Dering followed, with a terrible fear at her heart, 
and was obliged to sit down, so trembling and faint 
was she ; and Beatrice meeting that anguished, imploring 
look, could not utter a word, but simply put her hand in 
her pocket, and drew out a worn, faded letter. 

Mrs. Dering looked at it for an instant, then uttered a 
broken cry, and threw out her hands beseechingly. 

“ Oh, Beatrice ! my daughter ! Not that, not that, 
surely ! ” 

“ Yes, mama.” 

Mrs. Dering dropped her face in her hands with 
a moan that came from the depths of her heart, and over- 
come with the confirmation of her fears, Bea sank into a 
chair and burst into tears ; and nothing but her sobs were 
hear.:! for several moments. 

Under all circumstances, Mrs. Dering was a woman of 
wonderful self control; so in a moment she looked 
jp and asked : 

“ Do you know anything about it?” 


184 


SIX GIRLS. 


“ No, mama,’* answered Bea, then repeated the circum- 
stances in the case, adding, with a look of loving sym- 
pathy into the grief-stricken face opposite, When I went 
up into the garret this morning, I saw one of your trunks 
open, and your green silk and white lawn lying on the 
floor by the little black trunk, which was open also, and 
the letter was dropped on the floor, and I knew she had 
been there, and thought perhaps it was something she had 
left, so I read — on’y a pa-'t of it, and — oh, mama ! ” 
Mrs. Dering vouchsafed no explanation, as Bea paused 
with a sob ; but looked out of the window with a world of 
puzzled inquiry in her face, and murmured to herself : 

How did it ever come out of the box?” 

Papa,” answered Bea, catching the words. “ He was 
up there the day before he — died, and I remember when 
he came down with what he wanted, he said that he had 
gone clear to the bottom of the big box for it, and 
that he would put things back, and nail up when he 
came back home, and they were all left just that way, 
mama ; and oh — please tell me — is it true ? ” 

‘‘Yes, Beatrice, it is true, too true,” answered Mrs. 
Dering, sadly, then went up stairs, and left Bea sobbing 
on the lounge. 

In just a few minutes Kittie came running in, and 
paused astonished at the sitting-room door, but as 
she surveyed her sister, and heard how bitterly she 
was sobbing, she went in and knelt by the lounge. 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 


185 


Bea, can’t you tell me yet, what the matter is? ” 

** No-o,” sobbed Bea. 

Well, please tell me just one thing : I ’m so frightened 
about something, I don’t know what. But, is Ernestine 
very very sick, and is that what you are crying about? 
or — or, /las something happened that we don’t know 
anything about? Please tell me just this, Bea, and I 
won’t ask any more.” 

Yes, something has,” was Bea’s answer; and Kittie 
went sorrowfully away to tell Kat and Olive not to 
rejoice so much, yet. 

It was quite late that night, and every one had gone to 
bed, except Mrs. Bering, who sat sleeplessly beside the 
bed, holding Ernestine’s hot hand, and Bea, who 
nestled quietly in a large rocking chair, equally sleepless, 
and looking alternately from the loving, watchful fiice of 
mother, to the flushed, restless one on the pillow, while 
the big tears dropped unheeded down her cheeks. 

The doctor had said, on leaving in the evening, that 
when Ernestine awoke, she would be herself, and for 
some time Mrs. Bering had been watching the feverish 
■flush give way to pallor, and the restless, uneasy tossing 
to quiet slumber, and she knew, that before long, 
Ernestine would be herself, and ask a dreaded question. 
The house was painfully still. Bea shivered as the 
clock’s ticking sounded loudly through the halls, and 
thought of last night when they all stood there, in 


186 


SIX GIRLS. 


that same room, and wondered where Ernestine was; 
and Mrs. Bering shivered, though, for quite another 
reason, for her mind held far different memories. 

Just then, Ernestine turned, as though awakening, and 
the clock began to strike twelve. Through the dozen 
slow strokes she did not move again, but the moment 
they ceased, she moaned just a little bit, in a feeble, tired 
way, and opened her eyes. 

At the same instant, Mrs. Bering held a tiny glass 
to her lips, raised the pillow and said quietly : 

Brink, dear.” 

Ernestine did so, unresistingly, and lay for several 
minutes perfectly quiet, with her eyes wide open ; and 
then they began to grow startled, and went suddenly to 
Bea’s face, and stopped there. Bea smiled, notwith- 
standing she was trembling violently, and leaving her seat, 
came to the bed. But Ernestine was not noticing her 
now ; she was looking all about the room in a terrified 
way, and suddenly sat up straight in bed, pushed her hair 
back, and saw her mother. For an instant she did 
not seem to know what it was she wanted ; but it came to 
her suddenly, and with a beseeching cry, she threw 
out her arms. 

“Oh, mama, mama! is it true? Am I somebody 
else’s child? 

Bea turned away, and fell into her chair again, unable 
to see that pitiful, anguished face ; and Mrs. Bering^ 


WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 


187 


sitting down on the bed, drew the trembling figure 
closely to her heart. 

‘‘ My darling, you are my own dear little girl — ” but 
Ernestine interrupted, with a pitiful cry ; 

Oh ! tell me if that letter is so, or if it means some 
other Ernestine? just tell me that, quick, mama, oh 
please do ! ” 

What could Mrs. Bering say, with those clinging arms 
about her neck, and that pleading face, and the despair- 
ing eyes never moving from hers? 

“You are dreaming, darling,*’ she began soothingly; 
but Ernestine threw her head back, and her voice rose to 
a terrified shriek : 

“You won’t tell me; you won’t tell me,” she cried 
wildly. “ Oh, I must know if it is true ; I must. Oh, 
mama, say it isn’t; tell me that you are my own mama, 
that the letter don’t mean me ; oh mama ! mama ! ” 

“Ernestine, darling, listen;” said Mrs. Bering, with 
the tears running down her pale face. “You shall know 
the truth. You have been my little girl ever since you 
were two months old, but your own mother gave you to 
me just before she went to heaven, and she was my — 
but it was needless to say more ; Ernestine gave a little 
moan, and dropped her head, and Mrs. Bering was sob- 
bing, as she laid her back on the pillow ; while Bea ran 
ior some water. 


I 


CHAPTER XIL 


THE STORY. 

Mrs. Dering and Ernestine were alone ; Ernestine had 
asked for the story of her own, or rather her mother’s 
life, and now lay with her face turned away, while Mrs. 
Dering held her hand in that loving clasp, and began 
telling it quietly : 

“ We were all living in Virginia at the time, dear. 
Papa Dering lived with his uncle Ridley. Uncle Walter 
Dering lived in Staunton, and your mama’s home and 
mine, also in the city, were only a little way apart, and 
we saw a great deal of each other. Florence Granger 
was her name, and she was the most beautiful girl that I 
have ever seen, except the little daughter here, who is 
going to be her mother’s very image. She was lovable 
in every way, but possessed a restless, impatient, dissat- 
isfied spirit, that brought her much unhappiness. She 
constantly yearned for some kind of life that would give 


THE STORY. 


189 


her eager, uncontrollable spirits free play ; she hated the 
restraints of home, and frequently threw out dark hints 
to me of what she would do sometimes, when the right 
moment presented itself. I often begged her to give up 
such restless longings, and be happy at home ; for she 
certainly had a lovely one, and might have been the hap- 
piest of girls ; but she w^ould kiss me and laugh, and call 
me ‘ dear little proper Bess,’ and really be so happy and 
gay for a time that I would lose my fears, and think her 
threats all lively fun. About this time, papa and I be- 
came engaged, and I, confiding to him a secret that I 
had discovered, that his brother Walter loved Florence, 
he said that Walter had confessed it to him but that he 
despaired of ever gaining her heart, and that he dreaded 
the depres^ng effect of discouragement on his health, for 
Walter was very delicate. So I promised to do all I 
could towards helping him, and finding out the true state 
of Florence’s heart towards him, and I did so quite suc- 
cessfully, though it has always been a source of bitterest 
regret to me. I found, with very little trouble that she 
had no thought or feeling of love for him, and one day^ 
when she was thoughtlessly laughing at him for some- 
thing, I told her, in a hasty moment, how he loved her, 
and how the disappointment might kill him. I never 
can forget how surprised and grieved she looked, nor 
how bitterly I regretted my hastiness, for a more tender- 
hearted girl never lived, and it was impossible to guess. 


190 


SIX GIRLS. 


how, in a generous, impulsive moment, she might sacri- 
fice herself. That night she stayed with me, and both 
Walter and papa called ; and I saw in an instant, that in 
her generous pity, she was going to do a work that could 
never be undone. Poor Waller was nearly beside him- 
self with joy and encouragement. She sang for him, 
and oh, how many times have I gone back to that night, 
when you have been singing to me, with your mother’s 
voice, dear. She promised to ride with him next day, 
and as papa watched them, he said to me in great relief ; 
^ She loves him, and they will be happy ; ’ and I could 
only say ‘I hope so, truly,’ and pray that 1 might be for- 
given for what I had done ; for I knew she did not love 
him. 

‘^In a few days, she came rushing to me iii a perfect 
passion of stormy, bitter tears, and frightened me greatly 
with her fierce vehemence. She declared that she hated 
him, that she could not endure the sight of him, and yet, 
not half an hour before, she had promised to marry him, 
and now, if I did not say something to comfort her, she 
would do something dreadful, sure. I was perfectly at a 
loss what to say or do, and trembled for the end of it all, 
but I knew the only way to quiet her would be to appeal 
to her pity and tenderness, so I talked and talked for a 
great while about him, how he loved her, how the disap- 
pointment now would surely kill him, how happy we 
would be as sisters when married, and how we would all 


THE STORY. 


191 


go to Europe if papa inherited uncle Congreve^s estate ; 
and so finally won her over to a more pleasing view of 
the case. In the weeks that followed, I had the same 
thing to do many, many times, and found it more difficult 
to accomplish each time. She was wildly rebellious, and 
in an unguarded moment, let fall her passion for stage 
life, and then confided to me all her former plans, hopes, 
and aspirations. She had been in correspondence with 
members of the profession and had many secret plans 
laid for carrying out her ideas. She showed me several 
letters from Clarence Clare, then a famous actor, and I 
did not dream, could not even realize then, how far mat- 
ters had gone. She was to have joined his troupe when 
he reached Staunton, left her home and gone out into 
the world under an assumed name, to taste and know its 
bitterness, when it was all too late. I was in an agony of 
fear, and besought her to give it up and think, before she 
lost herself to home and friends, but she told me I need 
not worry, she had written to him that morning that she 
was to be married, and could not fulfil her plans with 
him, and that I could rest in peace, for she was going to 
be a really good girl now, and settle down as properly as 
I could wish. I believed her, and was entirely deceived 
by the quiet, contented aspect that marked her from that 
day, and was overjoyed at the happiness that seemed to 
come to her as the day of our double marriage drew 
near. She spent much of her time with Walter, and the 


192 


SIX GIRLS. 


rest almost entirely with me, and we had hours of de- 
lightful chatter of when we would be sisters indeed, and 
always live together, for papa and Walter were devoted 
brothers. 

‘‘ It all comes back to me now, so terribly clear, how 
the day before our wedding came, and P'lorence was in 
such a state of ecstatic happiness ; she left me in the 
evening with the warmest, tenderest kisses and embracesr 
and said she would be on hand early in the morning, for 
we were to be married at ten o’clock. While we were at 
breakfast next morning, her maid came over in great 
haste, to know if she was with me, that she wasn't at 
home, and evidently had not been, as her room was un- 
touched. It seemed for a moment that I could not 
move, so great was the terror that possessed me ; then I 
jumped up, snatched a hat and ran all the way to her 
home, without once thinking of amazed observers. She 
was gone. There was a little note left for me, and no 
word for any one else ; she had gone with Clarence 
Clare, who had arrived the day before, and, perhaps, 
even as I stood there reading her hurried words, she was 
being married, or was already his wife. I can never tell 
you of the tempest of grief that fell upon two homes, or 
how we ever got through that wretched day. Papa came 
to me for just a few minutes, then hurried off to stay with 
Walter who had not spoken, or betrayed any signs of con- 
sciousness since the word of Florence’s desertion reached 


THE STORY. 


193 


him. We knew from that day that he could not live, and 
though he was never ill, he died slowly, lingering with us 
only about six months, and his last words were to papa 
and me, spoken just before he died: * If she ever comes 
back, tell her I forgave her, that I loved her to the last, 
and prayed God every hour that she might be happy.’ 

little while after, papa and I were married, and 
moved to Richmond, He received nothing from Uncle 
Congreve, you know, so we both had to go to work, and 
we were very happy, for papa was brave, strong and 
honorable, and he prospered j so that in a little while we 
had a cosy home of our own, and envied no one 
their riches. 

*‘Mr. and Mrs. Granger, your grandparents, were very 
proud, and left Staunton, rather than stay where their 
daughter had disgraced them, and we never knew where 
they went to, or whether they are still living or not. 
Two years went by, and in that time I sent many a 
loving, anxious thought to Florence, where ever she was, 
and wondered if we were ever to meet again ; and 
one night my answer came to me. It was a bitter night, 
snowing hard and blowing fiercely. Papa and I, were 
sitting in our cosy, warm room, and Bea was sleeping,, 
rosy and sweet, in her little crib, when there came the 
feeblest kind of a ring at the door-bell, and papa went to* 
the door. In just a second he called me, and I hurried 
there, to find him holding a basket, with a queer bundle 


194 


SIX GIRLS. 


in it, and looking amazed out into the night ; then he set 
it down suddenly, and hurried out. I had not collected 
xr.y thoughts, when he came in again with a fainting 
figure in his arms ; a woman with a face uncovered, and 
we both recognized her in an instant. She was nearly 
dead with exposure, and it was a long time before she was 
able to speak a word, but we doctored her strongly, 
got her into a hot bed, and after a while she opened her 
eyes, and knew us. When she could talk, she told 
us how unhappy she had been ; how, after submitting to 
her husband’s neglect and the trials of stage life, for over 
a year, she had left him, and as soon as her baby 
was born, began looking for us. She was very feeble, 
and after leaving her burden on the steps, fainted in the 
snow before reaching the gate.” 

Here Ernestine, who had lain motionless all the while, 
gave a quick sob, and shivered from head to foot, and 
bending down to kiss her tenderly, Mrs. Bering went on ; 

She died with us, dear, in just a few days after, and 
with her last breath, gave you to me ; and ever since 
I took you, a tiny, little babe from her arms, you 
have been just as dear to me as though God had 
sent you to me, my very own.” 

Ernestine w^as shivering violently, and as Mrs. Bering 
finished, hid her face deeper in the pillow with a pitiful 
heart-broken moan, that was hard to hear, and Mrs. 
Bering said softly : 


THE STORY. 


‘‘Here, darling, in this box are some things 
that were to belong to you, in case you ever knew 
the truth, though with her last breath, your mother 
besought us to keep it from you, if we could, and we have 
tried, that being one reason why we afterwards left 
Virginia for New York State. But God knows best ; it 
is right for you to know, or it would not Have been so. 
The ring in the box is the one given by Walter to 
your mother, and she wished you, if you ever knew 
the story, to wear it.” 

Some time after Mrs. Bering left the room, Ernestine 
slowly turned her head, looked at the box, and with 
trembling fingers lifted the cover. The first thing 
that met her eyes, was a picture, an exquisite face 
painted on porcelain, and she uttered a smothered 
cry as she looked at the face of her mother, of whom 
she was the living image. There was the same brown 
eyes, with theii- slender arches ; the same fine straight 
nose, and wilful, determined mouth, and the same 
halo of sunny hair, covering the proud little head. But 
Ernestine, looking at it then, thought of the sweet, true, 
dear woman, she had always called mother, and threw it 
down with a bitter cry of pain. There was also a tiny 
note, written in a beautiful dashing hand, and after 
a while she read it slowly. 

“Bess Darling: 

“You have always been my good angel, and I could 


196 


SIX GIRLS. 


cry if I was n’t so happy, to think how I am going to 
disappoint you after all. But you mustn’t mind, only 
think how happy I am going to be, for Clarence loves 
me! I will be his wife when you read this, and oh Bess, 
I cannot help bi t be happy then. Tell Walter he must 
not care, he never would have been happy with me. be- 
cause I could not love him. I hope you will not feel 
badly when you get this; have a gay wedding, and think 
how happy I am. I expect it is wrong to run off this 
way, but I’ve always done things wrong, I always will, 
but it might have been different, if my mother had loved 
home more, society less, and been as true and good to 
me as a mother, as you have been as a friend. 

“FLORENCE.” 

There were many little trinkets, beside the diamond 
ring, which Ernestine declared she could never wear; 
and in a tiny little box, with “ My Baby,” written on the 
top, were four round bits of gold, each a five dollar 
piece. 

It really seemed as though the girls could never 
recover from the shock. Their faces were pale and 
tear-stained for many days; and only Olive, whose 
self-control was greatest, could venture into Ernestine’s 
presence, without bursting into tears, and having to beat 
a hasty retreat. Every fault that she had ever possessed, 
they lost sight of now ; they only thought how they 
all loved her, how happy and sweet she had always been 
about home, how lovely she was, and how dreadlul 


THE STORY. 


m 

it would be if they were to lose her. For Mrs. Dering 
had told them some things that she had not told 
Ernestine, among them these ; 

‘‘You have many times noticed how much more 
►careful and anxious I have been of Ernestine's health 
than of yours. That was because I knew that God had 
given me my girls well and strong, and poor little 
Ernestine came, burdened with the fatal seeds of her 
mother’s disease, consumption. I have known always, 
for the doctor told me, that she would become its victim 
-sooner or later ; and that if she lived to womanhood, he 
would be surprised. I also saw in early childhood, that 
she had inherited her mother’s restless, eager, dissatisfied 
disposition, though the difference in her home life has 
modified it greatly ; and knowing the weakness that 
would assail her if she lived, I have battled against it, and 
prayed that she might ever be spared a trial, or that 
a greater strength would be hers, than had been her 
mother’s. As she has grown older, 1 have been grieved 
and troubled, beyond expresj?ion, to watch the growth of 
that spirit, and of a selfishness, that must have been 
her father’s, as not an atom of it belonged to her mother, 
and many times I would have been discouraged utterly, 
if I had not had the faith that God would do all things for 
the best, and that all He wanted was for me to do all in 
my power, and trust the rest to Him.” 

As the days went by, Ernestine did not seem to grow 


GIRLS. 


198 

any^ bJett^rJ' friends hearing she" waS ill, began 
making kindly visits of sybpathy, and Were greatly' 
surprised to find her so terribly altered by the brief 
iilness. At first she refused to see any one ; but Mrs. 
Dering asked if she could not, as they would think 
it strange, and she immediately assented. 

It was indeed sad to look at her face, changed so sud- 
denly from its laughing, exquisite beauty to such a pallid, 
hollow-eyed, heart-broken look, and every one pitied, 
and wondered, and privately talked it over. Miss Strong, 
who had industriously circulated the report of her visit, 
with njany additions and wonderfully sly, meaning looks, 
now felt called upon to supply the public with a reason, 
so she told her dearest friend that Ernestine Dering had 
had a foolish little love affair, and broken her heart over 
it ; and before twenty-four hours, the whole of Canfield 
had heard from, or told their dearest friend, the same 
thing ; while Mrs. Dane, and a few other sensible ladies, 
were indignantly denying it, with what success, persons 
who deny rash stories, can guess. 

declare,’* cried Kat one day in desperation, ‘‘I 
can’t bear to go up sta rs. I just dream about how sad 
she looks, and I can’t keep from crying just to think that 
she really isn’t our sister anymore than — than Susie 
Darrow or any of the other girls. Oh, Kittie, just sup- 
pose we were ever to find out that we were not sisters, or 
belonged to somebody else, or something dreadful!” 


THE STORY. 


199 


Kittie gave a long, expressive shiver, and hugged her 
“fac-simile” by way of satisfaction, for such a dread. ul 
thought. 

How often we have wondered where she got her 
lovely hair and eyes,** she said slowly. **And how many 
times we fretted because mama watched her so, and 
seemed to humor her, where she never did us. I expect 
we have made mama unhappy lots of times by acting 
jealous that way.** 

Like as not,** answered Kat remorsefully. It *s all 
dreadful, every bit of it. I *d give worlds if it had never 
happened.** 

'I'hey all tried, by every way in their power, to win 
Ernestine back to something of her old self; but it 
seemed impossible. She spent hours and hours by her- 
self, just sitting with her hands folded, looking out of the 
window with no sign of life or interest in her colorless 
face, and rarely speaking. Just brooding, brooding, and 
nursing her grief, until the doctor said she must go away, 
take a complete change, and then she would come back 
herself again. He accepted the lover-story, as indeed, 
most every one did, for surely the general behavior and 
syn ptoms were much the same, and then, besides, what 
could the reason be if it wasn’t iha:? 

Ernestine was perfectly indifferent about a visit any- 
where. She was selfish in her grief, as in every th ng 
else, and took no interest in all their plans for her, 


200 


SIX GIRLS. 


expressing no satisfaction at the decision that Bea should 
go with her, and saying that she did not care when or 
where they went. 

One afternoon, Kiltie went up stairs and found her 
writing something and crying bitterly over it. She so 
seldom cried, that Ki.tie was alarmed, but Ernestine said 
it vvas only because she was nervous ; then put her writ- 
ing away, and took her old, listless attitude in the chair 
by the window. 

That night Olive heard something; she was sure that 
she did, and started up in bed for a moment to listen, 
but ev’’erything was perfectly still, so in a moment she lay 
down again, but could not get to sleep until long after 
the whistle had blown for the midnight train that went 
through to the city. 

Next morning Ernestine did not come to breakfast, 
but it was nothing unusual, so Kittie fixed a tempting 
waiter and took it up stairs. 

In a few minutes she called mama,’' in a frightened 
way, and Mrs. Dering instantly sprang up, followed by 
the girls, and ran up stairs. 

Since her sickness, Ernestine had slept alone, and Bea 
had gone over with Olive: so now, as they hurried in, 
they saw her untumbled bed, with just the slight pressure 
made where she liad lain down, as though gone to bed 
for the night; everything else was unchanged. Mrs. 
Dering sank trembling into a chair, and pointed to a 


THE STORY. 


201 


paper lying on the table. Olive reached it, and read 
aloud in a frightened, awe-struck voice : 

“D\rling Mama: 

“I’m going away; I can’t stay, and oh please don’t 
look for me; for I could not come back. It seems as 
though my heart was broken, and it nearly made me crazy 
to think that I was all alone in the world, except a 
wicked, cruel father. Oh, I never knew how much I 
loved you all, until I found that I was nothing — neither 
daughter nor sister. I have taken the twenty dollars 
in gold, and fifteen dollars that I saved from my 
teaching, and I will go some where and work for my 
living. I know it will grieve you, and that is all that 
has kept me from going before; but I could not stand it 
any longer; something made me go. Oh, please forgive 
me, and do not look for me. I love you all so much, 
and it nearly broke my heart to look at the girls, and 
think they were all sisters, and you their own mama, 
while I was nothing. Don’t grieve for me, please, but do 
love me. 


‘•ERNESTINE; 


CHAPTER XIII, 


A YEAR LATER. 

Kathleen was sitting in the swing, and idly pushing 
a hole in the saw dust, with the the toe of her shoe ; 
while Katherine sat on a log hemming a handkerchief, 
with a red rose stuck in her hair, and much thought- 
fulness in her face. 

** I think it *s too horrible to think about,” said 
the former, suddenly, and with a vinegary aspect of 
countenance. 

‘‘He may be nice,” returned the latter, consolingly, 
though with much evident distaste to the fact. 

“ Who cares, and then besides, I bet he is n’t.” 

“You mustn’t bet.” 

“ I will. You may be nice, and proper, and so awfully 
prim, if you want to, but I sha’n’t.” 

“You’re nearly fifteen.” 


A YEAR LATER. 


203 


“ Siippd'jSe I ^rrt. Besides I *m not ; it ’s three months 
yet.” 

‘‘Well/* i^id Kittie, after a pause, and turning a- 
corner in her handkerchief with great nicety, “ I suppose 
since it *s settled^ that he will be here in a few^ days. 
Bea has fixed his room so pretty.** 

‘*Pooh I F bet he^ll never notice it^ and he *11 be an 
everlasting bother, and we *11 never have any more fun ; 
and I *m going to tell him the minute he gets here, that I 
hate him and I hope that *11 make him happy and 
want to stay,** exclaimed Kat vehemently. 

“Besides/* continued Kittie, as placidly as though 
nothing was disturbing the serenity of her sister, “you 
see, my dear, how it will help mama.** 

Any remark of a like character, would, at any time, 
reduce the girls from the most active rebellion to passive 
acquiesence ; and Kat immediately lost her ferocious 
determination and looked reflective, as she recalled the 
dear face they loved, with its pale patient sweetness, and 
the gray hair that had all come into the brown locks 
within the last year, since Ernestine went away. 

“Well,** she said in a moment, and beginning to swing, 

“ I suppose it *s all right, but I wish he was n*t so old. 
Twenty I my goodness ! He ’ll be forever lecturing us 
and reading solemn books, because I know he *s solemn ; 
sick people always are, and everything will have to be 
poky and still to suit him, and I think it *s aboniinable ! ** 


201 


SIX GIRLS. 


, ‘‘ Exactly,** ansvyrered Kittie, with a nod of agreement. 

But Kat, there *s one splendid big thing to offset 
all those little horrid ones ; why don*t you think of 
that?** 

. “ Well, I do, and I *m most tickled to death, that 
mama vvon*t have to teach any more ; poor, dear, blessed 
mama, she *s most tired and worried to death ; ** and 
Kat*s face grew very tender as she swung and thought 
over it all. 

‘‘Oh Kat!** cried -Kittie, with a sudden vehemence, 
though the question that hung on her lips had been asked 
countless times in the past year, “ Where do you suppose 
Ernestine is?** 

Kat stopped the swing, and faced her sister with a 
sudden decision. 

“ I think,** she said slowly, “ Kittie, I think she *s — 
dead I ** 

“ Oh no 1 you don*t surely 1 She can*t be 1 ** cried 
Kittie in terror ; for no one had ever hazarded that cruel 
Belief before. “ Our Ernestine dead ! I could n*t 
believe it, and I think it would kill mama, if she thought 
we would never find her again.** 

“ But I can*t help but feel so,** said Kat sadly. “Just 
think of her getting into New York in the night, and not 
knowing anything where to go. I just know something 
dreadful happened, because we never can find one 
thing about her after she got there.** 


A YEAR LATER. 


205 


But I don’t believe she’s dead!” exclaimed Kittie 
firmly. ‘‘I wouldn’t believe it if I wanted to; and 
I think some time, or somehow, we will find her, or she 
will come back to us.” 

** Well I hope so I’m sure, for it will never seem right 
without her,” said Kat. Seems to me, we all lived so 
happy, with no troubles of any kind, until all of a sudden, 
then everything happens all at once. Home has never 
seemed the same since papa died.” 

When you look back and think how things have 
changed, don’t it seem strange,” said Kittie, dropping 
her sewing and looking pensively off at the wood-pile.” 
Jt seems so funny, to think that Miss Howard is married, 
and that people live in the little old school-house. 

Did n’t we used to have fun there? ” 

*‘Yes, we did, and we’re getting old dreadful fast,” 
said Kat, ruefully. 

‘‘ I can’t imagine anything more dreadful than getting 
to be young ladies, and having to wear long dresses, and 
done-up hair, and always be polite and proper. I think 
it’s horrible to be nearly fifteen I ” 

Kittie loved fun as much as Kat, but she was not quite 
so frolicsome in her tastes, nor so averse to a graceful 
train, or a lady-like structure of liair. In fact, she had 
many ideas of ideal young-ladyhood that would have 
amazed and dismayed her twin, had they been known. 
Any one who knew them well was no longer at a loss to. 


206 


SIX GIRLS. 


know which was which, for while in childhood they had 
been too similar to ever be distinguished, the coming 
years brought different ideas to each, and left their print 
in looks and manner. Kat was wildly rebellious at the 
thought of growing up ; she wanted to remain in the 
blissful days of short hair and dresses, when she could 
race with anybody, jump a fence, climb trees, and in 
every way be as boyish as she could, to pay up for being 
a girl. Consequently she always had a fly-away, unset- 
tled look about her, rebelled at the lengthened dresses, 
insisted on wearing her hair in a flying braid, would n’t 
be induced to cultivate ease and grace, and altogether 
was as wild and unconquerable on the threshold of fifteen 
as she had been in the freedom of twelve. Kittie, on the 
contrary, had a decided love for grace, and the ease of a 
cultivated young lady. She did her hair up in various 
and complicated fashions, occasionally practiced with a 
train, and had learned to bow with the latest grace and 
twist. She remembered Ernestine’s little graceful ways, 
and profited by the remembrance, thereby driving Kat to 
the verge of desperation, by giving frequent lectures on 
the necessity of sitting still gracefully, and walking with- 
out a skip or jump every third step. With all their little 
growing differences, they were just as devoted and insep- 
arable as ever. Kittie would sit and sew with a lady like 
air, and a posy in her belt, while Kat would lounge in the 
window-s^at, and read aloud, or amuse them with non- 


A YEAR LATER. 


207 


sense; or, if they went out on the pond, Kittie would 
wear her gloves and ply her oar with an eye to grac^, 
while Kat would, perhaps, be encased in a sun-bonnet, or 
be bareheaded and row as if on a contract to outdo the 
champion club in existence. In their work was the same 
little mark of distinction, and so now-ardays it was very 
easy to tell which was Kittie and which was Kat. 

It was just a year since Ernestine had gone, and such 
a long, sad, hopeless year I Not a clue or trace of any 
kind could they find except that she had gone to New 
York. The Canfield ticket agent had had his suspicions 
when a lady had bought a ticket and gone on the mid- 
night train ; but it was none of his business, to be sure ; 
so she had gone on her way unmolested, and farther than 
that, they knew nothing. Where she went on reaching 
the city, no one knew, though no mode of search had 
been left untried, and no expense spared, either by Mrs. 
Bering, or the relatives and friends who so heartily sym- 
pathized in her heart-broken search. There was nothing, 
from himself to the last dollar he possessed, that Mr. 
Congreve did not offer ; and Jean sent a tear-stained 
note with a crisp ten dollars — all she had, and saying: 
** Mama, please spend it to find Ernestine; and I ask 
God every few minutes, if He won’t please let us have 
her again.” 

But it had all been in vain. In the long days when 
Ernestine had -sat and thought and grieve;d, she must 


208 


SIX GIRLS. 


have matured her plans well, or else she had gone blindly 
forth, on the wild impulse of despair, and been swallowed 
in tlie black wickedness of the great city, into which she 
went. It was a ceaseless question in the anxious hearts 
of those who loved her, but there never came any answer ; 
and the days and weeks dragged into months until the 
year had rolled around, and they had heard nothing. 
The name of the lost became more precious than ever, 
and many things she had left behind, that all spoke so 
eloquently of her, they treasured as priceless, and wet 
them with many a sad tear, while heart and lips pleaded 
for the return of the dear one. The year of anxiety had 
told on Mrs. Dering, for the soft brown hair was thickly 
lined with grey, and there was a never-dying look of 
prayerful anxiety in her face, as though in some way, her 
life-work had been remiss and the fault of this one, gone 
astray, lay at her door. Still she never once gave up hope 
that at^ some time God would return this dear one to 
her, though it required constant prayer to strengthen the 
faith that trembled on the threshold of this affliction. 

Under the strain of mental and physical wwk, her 
health was slowly giving way, and for many weeks there 
had been the anxious question, ‘Svhat can be done 
to relieve mama?” and there had been no way discovered, 
for money was low, and each one already doing her 
utmost ; so Mrs. Dering held her position at the seminary,, 
and was obliged to content herself with one visit home at 


A YEAR LATER. 


20 ^ 


week, and sometimes not even that, for the hack drive 
was so fatiguing, and besides, it cost fifty cents every time. 

Well, after all, God never fails to give us something 
to cheer our flagging steps, never fails to know when 
a burdened child is falling with its load, and never 
fails to take the hand outstretched to Him, and help 
that child along ! 

In the midst of an anxious controversy one evening, 
when Mrs. Dering had just arrived home, and was lying 
exhausted on the lounge; Olive came in from the 
store and brought a letter with the Boston post mark ; it 
proved to be from Mr. Dering’s cousin, a wealthy widow, 
with an only son whose health was failing, and for whom 
the doctor prescribed a summer’s rest, and relief from 
study. She had once visited the Dering home, and said 
she knew of no one, to whom she would so willingly trust 
her boy, in his delicate health, as to Robert’s wife. The 
price named for his board was lavishly liberal, and filled 
the long felt want, for it would more than admit of 
mother’s being free and at home to rest, and regain her 
own health and sbength. 

So this was what Kat, viewing matters from a personal 
standpoint, thought was horrible,” and what KIttie tried 
to reconcile her to by reviewing the good things that 
would result from it. Bea was to room with Olive, 
and the sunny front room was fixed for the coming 
invalid, and it is a pity that all the knick-nacks arranged 


*4 


210 


SIX GIRLS. 


by the girls could not have retained all the curious 
conjectures uttered in their hearing, as to what the 
coming cousin was apt to be like, and repeated them to 
that same person. 

He came one evening, a tall pale youth, with very 
black eyes, quiet gentlemanly manners, and a faint sus- 
picion of a mustache, and Kat instantly declared that she 
did n’t like him. 

I told you he ’d be solemn, and look like a preacher. 
I bet he ’s got consumption too, and I suppose he ’ll call 
me Kathleen and ask me if I ’m prepared to die ? ” she 
exclaimed, after they had met him and he had gone to 
his room. 

I think he ’s very polite and nice,” said Bea. 

He looks very intelligent,” added Olive, with a 
pleasing idea in her mind, of having some one with 
whom she could discuss her books, and study Latin. 

Some fun in him I know,” laughed Kittie. And 
what nice manners he has, and black eyes, I wonder if 
he appreciates them } ” 

Poor fellow, just hear him cough,” exclaimed Bea in 
sympathy. Girls, what have you nice for supper? ” 

Slap-jacks,” answered Kat grimly. I hope he’ll 
enjoy them.” 

“O Kat, you surely have something else besides 
•cakes,” cried Bea in dismay. “It’ll never do, he’s used 
ito everything nice.” 


A YEAR LATER. 


211 


Suppose he is, we ’re not, and he must n’t expect it 
here.” 

Dear me,” explained Bea, starting for the kitchen ; 
but Kittie interrupted her, with the consoling remark ; 

^‘It’s all right, I made a nice pudding with sugar 
sauce, and there is cold meat and hot biscuit, that ’s 
enough, mama said so.” 

I bet you he ’ll sit and mope in his room, and cry for 
his mama, dear little boy, I ’ll give him a sugar horn,” 
laughed Kat, then caught her breath suddenly, and 
flushed scarlet, for there in the door stood the new 
cousin, also rather flushed, but with his eyes twinkling, 
and his arms full of things. 

Thank you. Cousin Kathleen,” he said gravely ; I 
really hadn’t thought of crying, but your promise is 
tempting, I ’ll begin in a few moments. In the mean- 
time, here are some messages that mother sent with her 
love. She selected for each, as she remembered you, 
and I hope that none of you have so changed in tastes, 
that these little things will be out of keeping.” 

His genial tone, and winning smile were very taking, 
and made every one feel acquainted at once, so Bea 
pushed an easy chair forward, saying with a smile : 

We ’ll try hard to be grateful. Cousin Ralph* Come, 
take this easy chair and deliver your messages, you see 
we ’re anxious.” 

He did so, holding up a splendid copy of Dante. 


212 


SIX GIRLS. 


^^For Olive, whom mother remembers as a studious 
book-loving little girl, and hoped she would enjoy this 
grand work.” 

** I shall indeed,” cried Olive joyfully. ‘‘How kind 
your mother is.” 

“ She is indeed,” answered Ralph. “ And very dear to 
me, I assure you.” 

“This for Beatrice,” he added, holding up a stout 
package ; “ I assure you, the interior is more attractive 
than the exterior,” he said with a laugh; and so Bea 
found it, for there was a box of kid gloves, a dozen 
beautiful handkerchiefs, with her monogram worked 
in the comer, and a beautiful set of jet jewelry. 

Bea was in ecstasies, and put on her ornaments at 
once, while Ralph next unfastened two boxes exactly 
alike and handed them, with their contents exposed, to 
their owners, 

“For Kittie,” he said, “and Kathleen.” 

Kittie gave a little scream of delight, but Kat simply 
made a bow, and said “Thanks,” with the grace of a 
ramrod, and shut her box with a snap. They were two 
beautiful chains and lockets, of ebony and gold, with the 
letters “ K. D.” in raised letters on the lockets, and a 
picture of the giver within. Ralph took no notice of 
Kat’s reception of the gift, but complimented Kittie as 
she put hers on, and then asked for Mrs. Bering. 

Her gift was a dress of heavy black silk, with every- 


A YEAR LATER. 


213 


thing necessary to its make-up, and yards and yards of 
beautiful lace and fringe for its trimming. Oh, how 
happy the girls were over that, and how splendid it 
would seem to see mama once more in an elegant dress, 
such as she used to wear. 

For Ernestine, were elegantly bound copies of the 
old composers, and for Jeanie an exquisite little pearl 
ring. The one of these, Mrs. Dering laid away with 
tears, and a silent prayer, such as came from her heart 
every hour of the day for the absent one ; the other, she 
sent with a long, loving letter to the little girl in Virginia, 
and thought, with a grateful heart, that the bitterest sor- 
rows have a drop of joy somewhere, for the doctors had 
said that Jeanie could be cured. 

In just a little while, it seemed as though Ralph had 
been with them always, such a comfort as he was to all, 
and such a genial, jovial companion as he became on all 
occasions. Mrs. Dering, or Aunt Elizabeth, he very 
soon lifted to the niche of affection next to his mothers ; 
and she, in turn, loved him as an own son, and in his 
ambitious moments, gave him long earnest talks, wherein 
she drew his unremembered Uncle Robert, as an exam- 
ple of truth, manhood and honor, such as she hoped to 
see him follow. 

For Bea, who now revelled in all the bliss of 
being a young lady nearly eighteen, he exerted all his 
most courtly politeness and gallant manners, and she 


214 


SIX GIRLS. 


wondered how she had ever gotten on without him 
before. 

To Olive, he was confidential, and finally won her 
to the same state. They studied, read and discussed, 
disagreed and argued, but he was always so polite, and 
ready to gracefully yield when a contested point could 
not be settled, that Olive grew ashamed of her more 
abrupt manners and hasty speech, and so the intimacy 
helped her in more ways than one. He confided to her 
all his ambitious plans of being a great lawyer, and his 
impatience at having to drop his studies for so many 
months. She, in turn, confided to him her longing for 
artistic study, and made him ashamed by the patience 
with which she had laid aside her cherished plans, and 
given all her time to the work which necessity demanded. 
So their friendship prospered. 

To Kittie, he was invaluable, and a more devoted 
brother and sister surely never lived. They boated, 
walked, sang, played and, in short, were almost con- 
stantly together. He was quick to discover the girlish 
longing to be graceful, refined and accomplished, 
and he helped her much, both as an example of 
polished, polite manners, and by rehearsing for her 
many of the accomplishments and graces of ladies of 
his acquaintance. And many times had he said to her 
in their little chats : You have a constant example 
before you, Kittie, in your mother. She is so refined. 


A YEAR LATER. 


215 


and such a true, noble woman, I would love to see you 
like her.’* 

To Kat, he was nothing, unless it was a stum- 
bling block in the way of her happiness. She didn’t 
like him, and was furiously jealous of the flourishing 
friendship between him and Klittie. He had not been 
solemn and poky, as she had prophesied, and the fact 
nettled her. She never could make him angry, though 
she left no way untried, and that was exasperating. He 
was always catching her at a disadvantage, and what she 
thought was anger at the fact, was, in truth, wounded 
pride. She was as rude as she dared be, and never lost 
an opportunity to sharp-shoot ; and while he realized the 
impoliteness of a return shot, the temptation was too 
great to resist ; so they had some lively skirmishes, in all 
good humor on his side, but in lively anger on hers. 

He came out on the porch one day, and found her 
sitting on the steps, with her hat tilted over her eyes, and 
a generally woe-begone look in her whole attitude ; and 
they had just had a wordy battle out at the pond. 

‘‘ Why, Kathleen,” he exclaimed, in mock penitence, 
is it possible ? Why, I never meant to hurt your feel- 
ings. I did n’t suppose they could be hurt.” 

‘‘No; they can’t, by you,” retorted Kat, knocking off 
her hat, and showing her eyes scornfully bright and dry. 
“Whenever you speak, I consider the source, and it 
never amounts to much.” 


I 


216 SIX GIRLS. 

^^Is it possible?” he exclaimed, laughing. When I 
speak to you, you are the source of every inspiring 
word.” 

Then I heartily ashamed of myself.” 

I don^t wonder; I’m often ashamed of you.” 

‘^You’re hideous,” cried Kat, fiercely. ‘‘I wonder if 
you have the ghost of an idea how horrible you are, 
Ralph Tremayne ? ” 

‘‘No, indeed. I never found any one impolite enough 
to tell me; but you will, I’m sure.” 

“Don’t judge my politeness by your own! ” 

“I can’t, for you have none,” he rejoined coolly. 

Kat could have slapped him with a relish, and like as 
not, if he had been nearer her own age she would have 
tried it. As it was, she looked into his laughing eyes 
and knew that she was angry, and he was not, therefore 
he would win, for a cool head can think a great deal 
faster than a hot one ; so she turned on her heel with a 
contemptuous spin, and left him. 

That afternoon she heard Ralph and Kittie planning 
a walk to the woods next day, and her jealous heart 
ached and burned fiercely. How despicable he was 
to take all of Kiltie’s time, and make himself such a 
paragon in her eyes, that she could talk of no one else. 
Kat shook her head in dire vengeance, and might 
have cried if she hadn’t been too proud. But just 
then Kittie said : 


A YEAR LATER. 


217 


I don know, Ralph, whether I can go or not ; 
I have some sewing that I ought to do ; you remember 
how I tore my dress the last time we went boating? 
well, I ought to darn it, you see.** 

No, I don*t happen to see, unless you take it out in 
the woods and mend it, while I make you a crown 
and put it on your head as queen of industrious girls. 
Violets would be very becoming to your brown hair and 
winsome face.** 

‘‘What nonsense ! ** muttered Kat, in disgust, while all 
the time her heart ached. “ Would n*t it be a joke if he 
was saying all those things to me instead of Kittie, 
and didn’t know the difference. He wouldn’t think 
I had a winsome face if I was the last girl alive, and yet 
I’m the moral image of Kittie.** 

“ Perhaps I can find time to darn my dress this 
afternoon, and if I do, then I *11 go to-morrow,** Kittie 
was saying, and then in a few moments Ralph went 
away. The moment he was gone Kat came around into 
the arbor, and threw herself on the grass. 

“ Now then, Kittie.** 

“Well, my dear.** 

“I would just like to know a thing or two?** 

“What, for instance?** 

“ Who are you going with to-morrow ? That abomina- 
tion wants you to go with him, and I *ve set my heart 
on having you go with me down town. You haven’t 


218 


SIX GIRLS. 


been with me, since the dear knows when, and upon my 
word, I feel real bad.’’ 

^^I’ll mend my dress now, go with Ralph in the 
morning, and you in the afternoon,” smiled Kittie 
sweetly. 

No you don’t,” cried Kat, sitting up. I ’d like 
to have you to myself for one day, at least. If he can 
get you from me so much in six weeks, by the end 
of summer you ’ll be beyond speaking to me.” 

Oh, Kat,” cried Klittie reproachfully. How can 
you?” 

*^Well, will you go with me to-morrow?” 

My dress — ” 

^^I’ll dam your old dress right now. Will you?” 

I don’t believe you care half as much for me to go, 
as you do to spite Ralph,” said Kittie thoughtfully, and 
to Kat’s amazement she suddenly realized that this was 
so, not but what she really wanted Kittie, but the pre- 
dominant desire was to spite Ralph, and she was bound 
to do it now, so she ran off for the dress, brought it 
back, and darned it immaculately, whereupon Kittie felt 
that the thing was settled. 

Kat was jubilant all the evening, and seized the 
first opportunity of announcing the change in the 
programme. Shortly after they came into the sitting- 
room, Ralph asked ; 

Is the dress darned, Kittie?” 


A YEAR LATER. 


21& 


‘‘Yes, it is, and I darned it, and Kittie’s going 
down town with me to-morrow,’^ answered Kat glibly* 
Ralph lifted his eye-brows with a smile, instantly 
detecting the little spite- work. 

“Why, did I speak to you?** 

“ Believe not ; I spoke to you.** 

“Suppose you try the novelty of speaking when 
you*re spoken to.** 

“I generally do ; also at any other time that I take 
a notion. I *ve done it all my life, and it *11 take more 
than you to stop me.** 

“Some people talk to hear themselves.** 

“ So I *ve heard, and I ’m quite convinced that no one 
has a better right to come under that head than 
yourself.** 

“ Quite true ; I *m amazed at your powers of penetra- 
tion. Perhaps you also observed that I rank only a 
little ways below my illustrious cousin, Kathleen.*’ 

“ I *m not your cousin, thank goodness.** 

“ Don*t thank anything with which you have so little 
acquaintance; it’s apt to never be appreciated.** 

“No acquaintance that I have with anything, or 
any body troubles me as much as the acquaintance that 
I have with you.** 

“You have my sympathy, for I*m troubled with the 
same feeling.** 

“ Do hush,** exclaimed Kittie. “ It *s perfectly awful 


220 


Sm GIRLS. 


the way you two do talk. Ralph, come play chess. Kat, 
I*m astonished.^* 

I don’t wonder ; so am I ; but I never had such 
an object to deal with before, so no wonder I do some 
unusual things,” cried Kat, and bounced out of the room 
to hide the tears that would come; for Kittie’s voice 
was reproof, and she took Ralph’s part, and that was 
altogether too much! 


CHAPTER XIV. 


STUDY OR PLAY? 

Olive was standing at the window, with a thoughtful 
face. Any one who remembered seeing her on the 
porch one evening, a little over two years ago, and 
recalled her face then, compared to what it was now, 
would have said in incredulous amaze : 

What a change ! ” 

She was now nearly seventeen, though she looked 
every day of twenty, both in face and figure. There 
was such a settled, purposeful look in the face, and 
so much strength and soul looking out from the eyes, 
that had been used to scowling fiercely, so much deter- 
mination expressed in the mouth, that had caught the 
trick of smiling much more readily than it once had. 
Noi was this all of the change either; she had come 
to realize that care in personal attire, and a study of 


222 


SIX GIRLS. 


pleasing others, could frame the most unattractive in at- 
tractive guise, and indeed, they had done their work for 
her. Instead of wearing the very things that she 
knew did not harmonize with her peculiar dark com- 
plexion, she studied what was becoming. Her hair, 
which was luxuriously long and heavy, she wore in such 
a manner as to soften the severe outline to head and 
face, and waved it deeply in front, so that curly tendrils 
of hair lessened the height of her too-high brow, and 
gave a more girlish look to the thoughtful face. In 
short, the Olive of two years ago was not much like the 
Olive of to-day, and in what her character had changed, 
I leave you to find out for yourself. 

She stood there, looking out, and something pleasing, 
evidently, caught her eye, for it brightened suddenly, 
then in a moment a look of regret chased the smile 
from her face. 

“What is it, dear?’^ inquired Mrs. Dering. 

“What, mama?” 

“The faces of my girls are so dear to me, that I 
can‘ read them quickly. Something pleased you, then 
^ brought an after- thought that was sad. What was it?” 

“ Nothing. I only saw Bea coming with Dr. 
Barnett.” 

“Ah ! ” The same smile, followed by a look of regret 
and a little sigh crossed Mrs. Dering’s face, and she 
sewed a little faster than before, as if her thoughts were 


STUDY OR PLAY ? 


223 


suddenly quickened by something. Dr. Walter Barnett 
had come to Canfield within the past year, rented a 
modest little office, hung out a neat, pretty sign to 
indicate that all persons afflicted with any of the ills 
to which flesh is heir, would always find him ready and 
anxious to do his best; and after a patient, hopeful 
struggle, he had now settled in a flourishing practise; 
for he was courteous and gentle, ready and willing, and 
always inspired the children with a liking, which old 
Dr. Potts, with his blue glasses and loud voice, could 
never do. Dr. Walter also taught the bible-class, 
and won the flinty hearts of the congregation, and the 
susceptible ones of the young ladies. He also frequently 
walked home with Beatrice Dering, and had fallen 
into the way of occasionally stopping in the evenings, 
if he happened to be passing and saw them in the yard. 
The old house, with its shady porches, clambering vines, 
and sheltering trees, made him think of his own home 
he said, and then Mrs. Dering, with her sweet, motherly 
ways, and surrounded by such lovely attractions, seemed 
to charm him ; and Ralph Tremayne possessed a wonder- 
ful influence over him some way, which served to bring 
him there more frequently than he could have found 
an excuse for coming, if that young gentleman had not 
formed a part of the household. 

Bea came up stairs in a little while, with a lovely color 
in her cheeks, and looking very bewitching indeed, 


224 


SIX GIRLS. 


with her sqft bright eyes, a posy in her belt, and a merry 
smile on her lips. 

“ I met Dr. Barnett” she said, taking off her hat, and 
smoothing out the ribbons with a little thoughtful air ; 
“ he was just going to see that poor widow’s little girl, 
who broke her back last week, and he stopped while 
I gathered some flowers for him to take to her. He is 
going to cure her if he can, and not charge anything. 
Isn’t it good and kind in him, mama?” 

^‘Yes, dear, very. He did not tell you so, did he? 

Oh no ; he ’s too modest. Mrs. Dane told me. 
She went to see the little girl, and took some things, for 
they are very poor, you know; and the mother told her, 
and just cried when she told how good and kind he was, 
and how he talked, and told Katie stories, when she was 
afraid to have her back fixed.” 

“ He is a very estimable young man, and a true Chris- 
tian, I think,” said Mrs. Dering, watching Bea’s animated 
face as she talked, and noticing that there was no touch 
of embarrassment or any trace of color, as she rehearsed 
her friend’s praise. 

When I gave him the flowers,” added Bea, taking 
the posy from her belt, and sniffing at the fragrant leaves, 
he gave me these, and said we would exchange. He 
has a little window-garden in his office. I think that is so 
nice, — and these grew in it; they need some water now, 
poor little things. Hand me that vase, Olive ! There ! ” 




STUDY OR PLAY? 


225 


Mrs. Dering went on with her sewing, and her heart, 
ever young, went back to the blissful days of her own 
life, like these in which Bea now lived, and she thought, 
with a smile : 

‘‘Bless the dear innocent little heart. She doesn’t 
suspect yet how happy she is, nor what precious meaning 
the little exchange of posies will soon take unto them- 
selves.” 

Olive was thinking of Bea’s happy face and blithe 
laugh, and after her sister had gone singing from the 
room, she came over to her mother’s side, and sat down 
on a stool there. 

“Mama, are you glad?” 

“Yes, dear, both glad and sad. A mother always 
dreads the time when she must begin to prepare herself 
to have her children leave her ; but it must come, so if 
she can know that their new choice will bring them hap- 
piness, it, of course, lessens the pain which comes with 
losing them. Dr. Barnett is a good Christian, a perfect 
gentleman, and I think he loves Beatrice. I also think 
she is quite unconscious of it as yet, and I am very glad* 
I hope it will continue so. She is young yet, my dear 
little girl, and when she becomes aware of the new love, 
then I must be content with second place, and I do not 
want it to come yet.” 

“And, mama — ” 

“Well, dear.” 


226 


SIX GIRLS. 


I want to speak of something that may be all imag- 
ination on my part, and will take your word to settle it. 
But don’t you think Ralph thinks a great deal of 
Kittie?” 

‘‘ Yes, he does ; but it is all a brotherly feeling, any- 
thing else would be nonsense ! Why, they ’re nothing 
but children ! ” said Mrs. Bering a little sharply. 

“ I know Kittie is, and she never thinks of such a 
thing any more than a genuine kitten; but Ralph is 
twenty, mama,” said Olive. 

I know ; and very old for his age in many things, but 
at heart he is nothing but a boy. He has always been at 
home with his mother, and has an almost girlish love and 
preference for ladies’ society. He and Kittie are genial 
in amusements, just as you and he are in books and 
ambitions. They love each other as brother and sister, 
but as nothing more. I should be sorejy displeased if 
any other idea should ever reach either.” 

It never will through me,” said Olive. She then sat 
silent for a long time, and finally breaking the pause, 
by saying: 

Mama, do you remember, one night a long time ago, 
when we were all telling disappointments ? ” 

Yes, quite well.” 

‘^Of course, it was all nonsense; but I have often 
thought since, that some time, I would tell you what I 
wanted to do.” 


STUDY OR PLAY? 


227 


‘^And am I to hear now?” 

Olive smiled, and looked a little wistful. 

Yes, I guess I will tell you, though it will be no sur- 
prise to you. I want to study, but I can never do it in 
Canfield. When I was fourteen, I first thought of going 
to the city and studying in Cooper’s Institute and coming 
home for over Sunday, and I began to save up my money 
for it. The money that I gave to papa was that, and I 
was at work on a head to take with me, because I thought 
perhaps I would have to have a trial picture. I knew I 
could n’t go then, because I was too young and inexperi- 
enced ; but I ’m older now, and if you would only say 
that you are willing, so that I could begin to put just a 
little money away every month — ” 

Mrs. Dering laid down her sewing, and looked in 
amaze at Olive’s face, which had become so enthusiastic 
as she put her plea in a voice that trembled in its 
eagerness. 

‘‘My dear child, I had thought of that same thing 
for you.” 

“ Why, mama ! ” 

“I had, indeed; and is it possible that it has been 
your own thought and desire for so long? You have so 
cheerfully given up your own work and done that less 
tasteful, and so patiently waited for the time to come 
when you could use your own money, that I had decided 
on just this thing, and will draw enough money from the 


228 


SIX GIRLS. 


bank to send you. I have a dear old friend in the city 
who would be delighted to have you board with her dur- 
ing the week, and now that Ralph is here, you can and 
shall be spared from your work, and shall take a rest in 
doing the work that you love.’* 

Olive looked speechless. Her eyes were full of spark- 
ling tears, and her lips trembling with a smile. She evi- 
dently did not know what to say for some moments, then 
she exclaimed : 

Oh, mama ! Is it really so ? It seems too good to 
believe. I had almost given up hope, for it did n’t seem 
as if I ever could go. . Oh, how I will study and draw, so 
as to make money and make my name ; ” and overcome 
with joy and a desire to shed some happy tears, Olive 
jumped up and ran out. 

In a day or two, however, something happened that 
deferred Olive’s studies for a while longer. It was from 
Jean, a long letter, full of love and longings to see them 
all, and long reports of what the doctors were doing for 
her, and how she could stand straight now without her 
crutch, and would soon be able to take a step. And 
after all that, she began about Uncle Ridley : how kind 
and good he was, how she had everything she could 
think of; how they loved each other; and then came 
this piece of news : 

He wants one of the girls to come and make a visit, 
mama. He ’s often said so ; but the other day he told 


STUDY OR PLAY? 


229 


me to write for one of them, which ever one I wanted, 
and he would pay her expenses. Now you know I never 
could choose which of the girls I *d love to see most, be- 
cause I want to see them all so very much. But I think 
he wants to see Olive ; he ’s often said so ; and he ’s 
asked me so much about her, and said he’d like to know 
her because she was so impudent to him. Why was she ? 
Do you know, mama ? I think it ’s so strange, when he ’s 
such a dear, darling uncle. Anyhow, I think it would 
please him very much if she would come, and oh, how 
very happy I would be. Tell me what you think about 
it, and I do hope she ’ll come ; and if she can’t, please 
let one of the others, and hurry and let me know. I can 
hardly wait.” 

“Of course you’ll go,” said Kittie, when the letter 
was finished, and the question open to discussion. 

“To be sure,” said Kat. “Olive, you’re a lucky girl. 
I wish I had been impudent to him.” 

“I always have wanted to see Congreve Hall,” said 
Bea, with a little sigh. “How grand it would seem to 
live in a magnificent place that had a name to it. I sup- 
pose you’ll stay a long time, Olive?” 

“I wish he wanted any of you,” said Olive, “and I 
believe he does. It ’s all Jeanie’s notion, his wanting me. 
Fix Bea up, mama, and let her go. I have something 
else on my mind.” 

But Mrs. Dering shook her head. “I think Jean is 


230 


SIX GIRLS. 


right/* she said. Uncle Ridley is a peculiar old man, 
and he thinks Olive is much like the Congreves ; he 
told me so himself, and I think he wants you for that 
reason.” 

So great was Olive’s consternation, that she sprang 
right up from her seat in dismay. 

‘‘ Oh, mama ! I want to see Jean ; you know I do, 
but I can’t give up my plan any longer ; I can’t. You 
don’t think I ought to, do you?” 

^‘What do you think about it, Olive?” 

‘‘ I don’t know ; I think it ’s too bad,” cried Olive ; 
then fled from the room, as she always did when she 
found her emotions getting the mastery over her. 

‘‘Well, I declare !” exclaimed Kat, in sympathy. ^‘It 
is too bad when her heart is so set oh her studies. That’s 
the disadvantage of having a talent. Don’t you suppose 
Uncle Ridley would be satisfied with me? I’d do my 
level best to be like the Congreves, if that is such an 
attraction to him.” 

“ He ’d go crazy with such a whirligig about as you,” 
said Bea, a little envious of Olive’s good luck. “I think 
I might go. I ’m the oldest, and dear me, how I would 
enjoy it ! ” 

“ I would love to have you all go,” said Mrs. Dering, 
thoughtfully creasing the letter in her fingers. “ Congreve 
Hall was papa’s home, and I would enjoy having you see 
it, would love to go myself, in fact, and when I think of 


STUDY OR PLAY? 


231 


my dear precious little girl, it seems as though I must go. 
But that cannot be, so it need not be thought of. As to 
Olive, Uncle Ridley is peculiar and quick, and he took a 
fancy to her, and if her going to see them would give 
him any pleasure, I am only too glad and willing to have 
her go. I am sorry the invitation came just now for the 
child has waited so patiently to study and work on her 
art, that delay will be a sore disappointment to her. But 
she will see through it rightly I am sure and be willing to 
wait a little longer.” 

Mama,” said Kat, reflectively, don’t you think Olive 
has changed very, very much?” 

‘‘Yes, dear.” 

“And especially since Ernestine went away. Why?” 
asked Kittie. 

Mrs. Dering sighed and looked sad ; she always did 
when Ernestine’s name was mentioned. 

“ Olive’s was a very unhappy disposition then, a great 
deal more so than she is now,” she said. “ What attrac- 
tions she possessed, she hid by her faults ; she did not try 
to please any one, but took her time in envying Ernes- 
tine’s natural beauty and power to please. She made 
herself bitter, morose, and unattractive, then blamed 
others for showing any preference for her sisters. I think 
the lesson poor Ernestine taught was one that she took to 
heart deeply, and has profited much by.” 

“ I notice she does not dislike Uncle Ridley as much 


232 


SIX GIRLS. 


as she used to/* said Bea, smiling and looking very happy 
all at once as she caught sight of a gentleman coming up 
the shady walk. ‘‘Mama, here comes Dr. Barnett. I 
promised him some more flowers to take to little Katie 
Gregg. If he is not in a hurry I shall ask him in ; and, 
Kat, I advise you to put up your hair. It looks like an 
Indian’s that way.” 

“ Who cares for old Barnett? ” said Kat, as Bea flitted 
out. “ My hair suits myself, and if he don’t like it, he 
can look at Kittie’s. Her’s is as proper as ten command- 
ments, with a killing bow fastened right on an angle with 
her ear. Now here comes Ralph, and I ’m off. Kittie 
come down to the pond, and lets take a row.” 

“I will in a little while,” said Kittie, putting her 
sewing aside ; “ but Ralph is going to help me with that 
example I couldn’t get, and I’ll do that first, then I’ll be 
down.” 

“ Well, I ’ll not look for you,” said Kat discontentedly. 
“ After you get your old example, there ’ll be something 
else, and then it ’ll be time to get dinner. I just 
abominate cousins ! ” and Kat slammed out of one 
door, just as Ralph canie in at the other. 

No one saw Olive again during the day, but just 
before supper she came down stairs and asked for 
mother. 

“ I don’t know,” said Kittie, flying about the kitchen 
with her big apron on. “ She and Bea went down town 


STUDY OR PLAY? 


233 


this afternoon; I don’t know whether they’re back or 
not. If you’re going in the sitting-room, tell Ralph 
to come ; he said he ’d beat the eggs, if I ’d make 
a puff-cake.” 

So Olive went into the sitting-room, and sent Ralph 
out to the feminine employment of egg-beating, then 
she stood by the window and looked absently out 
at the shadowy yard. She was going to Virginia; she 
had decided on that, though the decision had 
cost some bitter tears and some stern reasoning; for 
her new plans, long held in check, were doubly precious 
in the sudden promise of fulfillment, and her whole soul, 
starved out on book-keeping and dusty offices, begged 
for a revel in the art she loved so well. 

After all,” she mused, deciding grimly to look at the 
best side of things, ‘‘Jean says there is a gallery of grand 
pictures at Congreve Hall, and I suppose I can study and 
make copies of the ones that I like ; and then — the 
thought was a little distasteful to her — “I suppose I 
was unjust to Mr. Congreve, and ought to make amends 
if I can. We do owe him more than any amount of 
gratitude can ever repay, for all he ’s done for Jean, 
and I suppose I ought to call him Uncle Ridley, 
and have the dress made that he sent me ; perhaps 
he ’ll recognize it ; ” then she laughed a little, to think 
what he would say at discovering her just accepting the 
present made two years ago. 


234 


SIX GIRLS. 


laugh sounds encouraging; what brings it Olive?’’ 
asked Mrs. Dering, having entered noiselessly. 

Nothing. I was just thinking,” answered Olive. 
^‘I will go, mama, because I cannot help but think 
that I ought to. I was just deciding in my mind to call 
him Uncle Ridley, and have the black dress made. 
How soon shall I go?” 

cannot tell yet; there is much that you will 
need done. I am very glad that you have decided 
in this way, Olive dear, though I know it was a sacrifice ; 
but your art will become none the less precious through 
delay, and your decision shows a desire to retract some 
hasty judgments, and do justice to a peculiar old man, 
who, with all his faults and vagaries, has a heart as true as 
gold.” 

I guess that ’s it,” said Olive, with a little sigh ; and 
then the supper-bell rang. 

At the end of three weeks Olive was ready to go, and 
it was hard to tell whether she was any more enthusiastic 
with the idea or not. After the fashion of all young 
girls, she could not help but be pleased to see the 
accumulating pile of pretty things ; to feel all the time 
that something, which might prove very pleasant, was 
going to happen; and that she was the cause of all 
the little bustle of preparation that filled the house, 
and engrossed the mind and hands of mother and sisters. 
There is always something, more or less exciting in 


STUDY OR PLAY? 


235 


the appearance of a trunk, and when packing time 
actually came, Olive found that she was beginning to 
indulge in some very pleasing anticipations. 

I expect Jean has grown very tall,’^ said Bea one 
afternoon, as the girls were all gathered in Olivers 
room, and the big trunk stood open in the middle of 
the floor. 

Probably v/ears long dresses, and does her hair 
in a chignogger,” said Kat, from a perch on the foot- 
board of the bed, where she rested in idle moments. 

Tis n’t to be supposed that she can be treated so like 
a young lady, and not get stuck up. Just to think 
of having a maid, and being called Miss Dering, when 
you are only twelve. Hollo, Kittie ! hand me that 
pile of skirts, and I ’ll fold them.” 

^‘Dear me,” said Kittie, handing over the snowy 
starched heap. ‘^You have six white skirts, Olive, 
and three of them trimmed. I ’d feel terribly fixed up, 
and lady-like with so many.” 

“ Pooh ! some girls have six dozen, with tucks, and 
ruffles and puffles on every blessed one of them,” said 
Kat, making the starched cloth rattle with her vigorous 
folding. 

^‘All nonsense,” assented Kittie, down on her knees 
before the trunk. Now hand me the things and I ’ll 
pack. Kat, you’re knocking everything off the table, 
the way you whisk those skirts around. Hand me 


236 


SIX GIRLS. 


the black dress; that’s the heaviest and must go in 
first.” 

^‘Where’s the other black tip?” asked Bea, who 
was trimming the travelling hat. There it is, you blew 
it behind the table with your whirlwind of skirts ; hand 
it to me, Kat.” 

What fun it is to pack and go away,” said Kat, 
fishing out the desired feather with Olive’s parasol. 

You pack like a captain, Elittie. I ’d most likely have 
put her best hat in the first thing, shoe polish next, and 
then tumbled in anything that I happened to lay my 
hands on. Dear me, I wish I was going.” 

I really think it ’s too bad that you have n’t a party 
dress, Olive,” said Kittie, with some disapproval. 

Whatever would she do with a party dress, cried 
Kat, once more enthroned on the foot-board. “ Who ’d 
give a party, I ’d like to know? One old man, a little 
girl, and a pile of servants ! ” 

Young Mr. Congreve is there,” corrected Bea. 
S’p’ose he is ; and anyhow, I hope you ’ll snub him, 
Olive ; he ’s going to own Congreve Hall, and it ought to 
have been papa’s. If he was a decent man he would n’t 
take it. How are you going to treat him ? ” 

I don’t know ; — yes, I like the feather that way ; 
you ought to see how nicely my dress hangs,” said Olive, 
in a little flutter of pleasing excitement. ‘‘Really, 
it’s quite nice getting ready to go away. I only wish 


STUDY OR PLAY? 


237 


the visit was over and done with, and all this preparation 
was for sending me off to study/ ^ 

Don’t worry about your studying, you ’re twice as 
smart now as any of us,” said Bea, surveying her work, 
from its perch on her finger. Now try this on, Olive, 
I ’ve tipped the feather a little more to one side, and 
it looks more jaunty — just the thing too; isn’t that 
becoming girls?” 

Perfectly mag ! ” exclaimed Kat, making an eye-glass 
of her hands, and falling into a rapture of admiration that 
pretty near upset her from the foot-board. 

“ I declare, you ’re going to be very distinguished 
looking, Olive, said Kittie, resting from her packing to 
survey, and pass an opinion. ‘‘And a cocked hat is very 
becoming. The next thing we hear, you will be cre- 
ating a sensation in Staunton that will shake the whole 
of Virginia.” 

“Very likely,” laughed Olive ; but she looked pleased, 
for there was honest admiration in each sister’s voice ; 
and, after all, it is no small thing to be going off alone, 
with a trunk filled by loving hands, a new cocked hat that 
is becoming, and the pleasing thought of looking well 
in all respects, and perhaps “ distinguished.” 

The day for departure came at last ; and in the after- 
noon sunshine, Olive, trunk and satchel stood on the 
porch, waiting for the express wagon ; and the front door 
stood open, and there was a great deal of laughing and 


238 


SIX GIRLS. 


talking going on within, that sounded very gay and happy. 
Dr. Barnett had taken advantage of the little excitement 
to drop in, though he had been around only the evening 
before, and bid Olive good-bye, with much ceremony 
and many good wishes ; but no one seemed to object to 
his being on hand again, for Bea looked her unconscious 
happiness, and Mrs. Dering was cordial and kind, and the 
young doctor was in a dream of bliss. 

Whereas Ralph?’* exclaimed Olive, suddenly, when 
the real good-bye moment had fairly, come; if such it 
could be called, when the whole family were going to the 
depot with the young traveller. 

^^He’s gone, sure enough!” said Kittie, after some 
hasty and lusty calling had taken place. I suppose he *s 
gone on down to the train ; but it ’s funny the wagon 
don’t come.” 

1 ’ll trot down to the gate and see if it is in sight,” 
volunteered Kat, who was obliged to keep moving as a 
vent to excitement ; but just as she started, there rattled 
up to the gate, in great style, the handsomest of Canfield’s 
two hacks, and out of it sprang Ralph. 

I wanted you to go off in style,” he said, well pleased 
with himself when he saw Olive’s delighted look. Here 
cabby, is the trunk! Now, ladies — hollo, doctor I you 
going to the train? ” 

^‘WeM, really, said Dr. Barnett, hesitating, hadn’t 
thought, but, if Miss Olive will allow me, I ’ll be happy.” 


STUDY OR PLAY? 


239 


He said Miss Olive, but, bless you ! he looked right 
straight at Miss Beatrice, and she smiled ; and after that, 
neither ever knew whether Olive was willing or not. 

This is putting on style with a vengeance,’’ said Kat, 
as the ladies seated themselves in the hack, after the 
trunk had been tossed aloft. People will think the 
whole family is departing for Europe.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


CONGREVE HALL. 

That’s Olive 1 that’s Olive ! Oh I ’m so glad ; 
hurry James, that’s her !” 

It was an eager, childish voice, ringing joyfully through 
the Staunton depot, and making every one turn and smile 
at the speaker, who stood in a large carriage, running her 
eyes over the crowd that gathered as the train came in 
and stopped ; and suddenly breaking into that joyful cry, 
as she watched for a face, which appeared among so 
many strange ones. 

Yes, Miss Jean; the young lady in grey?” 

Yes, and hurry ; she does n’t see us yet,” cried Jean, 
almost leaping from the carriage in her eager excitement, 
but James made his way through the crowd, and Olive 
suddenly found herself confronted by a tall man who 
lifted his cap. 


CONGREVE HALL. 


241 


‘^Miss Dering? Miss Jean is in the carriage; may I 
take your satchel? This way, please.^’ 

Olive followed, with her heart fluttering wildly ; but 
almost before her quick eye discovered her little sister^ 
James had paused at the carriage, and Jean was laughing 
and crying on her neck. 

Oh, Olive, I ’m so glad and happy, I don’t know what 
to do ! I was so afraid you wouldn’t come — and 
Uncle Ridley told me I mustn’t get out of the carriage 
— and cousin Roger could n’t come with me — and 
I ’m so glad you came — and how is mama and the 
girls — why don’t you say something?” 

More than one person in hearing of this incoherent out- 
burst, smiled broadly, and James was obliged to lower his 
head as he assisted Olive into the carriage, lest the 
twinkle of amusement in his face, should mar his pro- 
found dignity and professed stolidity for anything outside 
his coachmanship. 

‘‘Do tell me everything — quick,” cried Jean, as the 
carriage started onward, and she took her seat on 
Olive’s lap. “ Did n’t mama send her picture, or 
something ? I ’d give twenty million dollars, if I had it,, 
if I could just see her for a few little minutes. I guess 
I ’ve cried about fifty gallons of tears to see you all since 
I came here.” 

“Cried, when you are getting well?” laughed Olive^ 
just begining to realize how much she had wanted to see 

z6 


242 


SIX GIRLS. 


the little sister, who was now clinging to her with such 
joyous love. 

Yes, indeed I have ; and then Bettine gets so sorry 
for me, and says it is n’t right, but then, I think God 
ought not to make me love mama and you all so much, if 
He does not want me to cry to see you.” 

And are you ever so much better? ” asked Olive. 

Oh yes, I never use my crutch now, only a little cane 
to help me, and the first time I really walk without any 
thing, I ’m going to have my picture taken for mama.” 

I will draw it,” exclaimed Olive. If I am here, and 
have you standing among the flowers.” 

How nice,” cried Jean ; then drew back a little, and 
looked at her sister, as though just aware that she was 
really present. 

Why, Olive, you — seems to me — I don’t know ; 
but then, are n’t you changed a good deal, someway? ” 

^^I don’t know; do you think I am?” asked Olive 
feeling the color creep into her cheeks, at the honest 
childish question. 

Yes, it seems to me you are ; ” and Jean looked 
undecided whether to go on. ^^You look so nice and 
pretty, and then you don’t seem a bit cross ; is it because 
you are glad to see me? ” 

‘‘That’s just exactly it,” cried Olive, moved to hide 
her face. 

“ You don’t know how glad I am to see you Jeanie, 


CONGREVE HALL. 


243 


and if I ’m cross a single once while I ’m here, you scold 
me good.*’ 

Oh, Olive/* and Jean laughed merrily. The idea 
of me scolding you, that *s too funny. Don’t you ever 
get cross any more?” 

“I try not, but then I do a great many times, I 
expect ; I don’t think I will now though, for I ’m so glad 
to be with you, and find that you are just the same liitle 
Jeanie, that mama and the girls love and want to see so 
much. Why Kat said she expected you would have on 
long dresses, and be a young lady.” 

What a funny old girl she is,” cried Jean. I *d 
give anything to hear her laugh once, it always sounds so 
pretty.” 

The rest of the drive was taken up in hasty chattering, 
as though they were going to be separated in just a few 
moments, and would leave something untold ; and Olive 
never noticed that they had entered some tall gates, and 
were going up a white gravel road that wound in and out 
of the velvet-like lawn ; and had quite forgotten her tre- 
pidation at meeting Mr. Congreve, until they came to a 
stand still, and James, throwing open the carriage door, 
revealed the great entrance portico, the open doors and 
the cool dark interior to Congreve Hall. 

Where is Uncle Ridley? ” was Jean’s first question, as 
James lifted her out and handed her cane, while Olive 
followed. 


244 


SIX GIRLS. 


I do not know, Miss Jean,’’ James answered ; but at 
that moment, Mr. Congreve became visible, advancing 
through the wide hall, and with her heart in a little jump, 
Olive passed Jean, entered the door, and met him, with 
outstretched hand. 

How do you do. Uncle Ridley? ” 

Uncle Ridley! God bless my soul, just listen,” 
cried the old man, the quizzical look on his face changing 
to one of blank delighted amazement. Why, how do 
you do, my dear child ; I did n’t know but what you ’d 
take my head off the first thing ; you ’ve changed a great 
deal ; yes, bless my soul you have, but it ’s very becoming, 
it is indeed. Now come right in and sit down, and let 
me look at you, for I ’d like to do so, yes I would. 
There — hum ! ha, I never expected to get this close to 
you and be safe. And you called me Uncle Ridley too. 
Do it of your own accord?” 

^‘Yes, sir.” 

Going to do it again?” 

‘‘If you want me to?” 

Want you to ! God bless my soul ! Just listen. I 
never was a downright, unvarnished heathen, but twice in 
my life ; and I guess you know about both of those times, 
and my first request is that you let them slide from your 
memory. The Lord knows I ’d like to ! Yes, child, I 
want you to call me uncle. I hoped you would, but I 
was n’t going to ask you to. Before I die, I would like 


CONGREVE HALL. 245 

to be a better uncle to Robert’s children than I ever was 
to him.” 

Olive found that what little of the old dislike that lin- 
gered in her memory was fast vanishing, but before she 
could speak, he had whisked back into his odd, abrupt 
way. 

What stupids we are, to be sure ; never ask you to 
take off your things, or wash your face ; and it ’s dirty 
sure as I ’m alive ! but then, there ’s enough smoke and 
dust and stuff, between here and New York, to dirty the 
faces of all the angel hosts, so you need n’t mind ; though 
I don’t suppose you do ; bless me I no ; but then, you 
had better go and wash it. Jeanie, Olive is ready to go 
up stairs.” 

Jean had been fluttering about Olive’s chair in impa- 
tient eagerness, and now signified her readiness to act as 
guide by seizing her hand and hurrying out. 

I was so afraid he would keep you there to talk,” she 
said, as they went up the wide stairway, and through the 
hall, that made Olive open her eyes in spite of herself, for 
she never had seen such lavish display of elegance ; and 
she was immediately seized with an old feeling of awkward 
strangeness, that brought a defiant color to her face, as 
she thought of any one discovering that she was unused 
to any elegance or custom that might reign in Congreve 
Hall. 

Uncle Ridley had these rooms fixed for you,” said 


246 


SIX GIRLS. 


Jean, throwing open a large door, and ushering her in. 
‘‘ See, are n’t they just beautiful? ” 

“Yes, indeed,” exclaimed Olive in quick delight; for 
they were certainly gems to make a girl rejoice. Three, 
with a bath-room, all complete, and looking like Titania’s 
bower in their delicate green coloring and bamboo furni- 
ture. The carpets were like untouched moss clinging 
fresh and sweet, to mother-rocks, and to Olive, it seemed 
almost like sacrilege to tread upon it. From the wide, 
deep windows was a view, such as would hold the most 
careless gazer in a moment of ecstasy, and after one 
quick cry of artistic appreciation, Olive stood mutely en- 
tranced. Looking down, there were occasional glimpses 
of the magnificent lawn, with here and there, a rustic 
seat, and white statue, thrown in bold relief as seen 
through the tossing foliage ; and looking out, there 
showed the road winding down through the mountains, 
every now and then disappearing, until finally lost to 
view ; and farther off, and down in the valley lay Staun- 
ton, the busy, beautiful city, with its- church spires rising 
into the hazy atmosphere, as though in defiance to the 
lofty peaks towering so much higher, and printing 
themselves against the sky in the far distance, in 
jagged, immovable lines, that looked like relentless 
guards to something beyond. 

“Do you want a maid?” asked Jean, breaking in 
upon her reverie. “ Uncle Ridley sent to ask you.” 


CONGREVE HALL. 


247 


A maid ! ” exclaimed Olive, feeling blank for a mo- 
ment. Did she want a maid? No; of course she 
did n’t. Ernestine would have taken a maid ; oh, yes ; 
and no one would ever thought but what she had had a 
maid and untold luxuries all her life. But she — “No, 
I don’t want any maid,” she said, almost sharply; then 
laughed as Jean looked grieved at the quick tone. 
“What would I do with a maid, Jeanie? She would 
know a great deal more what to do than I, and that would 
never do, you know. Besides, I ’m too used to dressing 
myself. Do all young ladies in Virginia have maids?” 

“All the rich ones, I guess. Miss Franc Murray, — 
she is going to marry Cousin Roger, Bettine says ; she 
has one, and scolds her like everything when her hair 
isn’t just right.” 

“ Why, how do you know ? ” laughed Olive. 

“I’ve been there lots of times. She comes here for 
me, and tells Uncle Ridley she loves me dearly; but 
Olive—” 

“Yes.” 

“ When she comes, she stays just as long as she can ; 
and if Cousin Roger is n’t around, she asks me where he 
is, and all about him ; then I have to promise never to 
tell.” 

“But you are telling me.” 

“Oh, do you think that counts?” cried Jean in alarm. 
“She didn’t ever mean you; but then, perhaps, I better 


248 


SIX GIRLS. 


not tell any more until I ask her, for I might break my 
word.” 

Olive could not resist kissing the childish, innocent 
face that looked more like a little angel’s than a child of 
nearly twelve. Surely, no matter how Jean was sur- 
rounded, she would always retain that childish sweetness 
and purity, that had always made her seem more of 
heaven than earth. Before she left Congreve Hall, Olive 
many times wondered that the child was not spoiled, 
for her slightest wish was law, from the owner down 
to the last servant therein. 

When the bell rang for tea, it broke in upon an earnest 
cosy chat between the sisters, and made them reluctant 
to leave their seat in the twilight ; but Mr. Congreve was 
punctual to the letter, and required the same of others, 
so Jean led the way in a moment, and together they 
descended the stairs and entered the room. 

Here you are, with your face clean, and a posy 
in your hair,” cried Mr. Congreve, from his stand on 
the rug. ^‘Fine looking girl, you are, my dear, and 
a Congreve every inch of you. Come here, and shake 
a paw with your Uncle Ridley.” 

Olive did so, and conscious that another gentleman 
was standing outside the circle of light, and doubtless 
regarding her as she crossed the room to ‘‘ shake a paw,” 
she advanced, and tried not to think whether she was 
doing so gracefully or not. 


CONGREVE HALL. 


249 


That *s the way/* exclaimed Mr. Congreve, drawing 
her into the brightest light. Roger, here is your Cousin 
Olive, and Olive, this is Roger Ridley Congreve at your 
service, and we will suppose that you are cousins, for the 
want of a better name. Now shake hands and be 
friends, children.** 

The gentleman came forward, and conscious that 
her face was growing scarlet, Olive bowed slightly, 
and murmured something wherein no words were audible, 
but his name, and grew furiously angry with herself, 
because she had become confused at the sight of a 
gentleman, where she had expected to see only a 
youth. 

Hoity-toity ! ** cried Mr. Congreve. That will 
never do ; call the boy Roger, Olive, and then we will 
go to supper.** 

The boy ** smiled in a friendly fashion, and supposing 
that her confusion arose from the old gentleman*s abrupt 
manner, he held out his hand. 

“ Let us shake and be friendly, Cousin Olive, and it is 
a great wonder' that he does n’t command a kiss of 
greeting, on the strength of our being cousins, more 
or less distantly removed.** 

As he spoke, Olive looked up with a startled air, 
and unconscious that he was holding her hand, she 
looked straight at him for several moments. Where had 
she ever seen that face and heard that voice? 


250 


SIX GIRLS. 


What ’s the matter? ’’ cried Jean, for the memory was 
in some way painful to her, and reflected itself so in 
her face. 

Nothing,” exclaimed Olive, withdrawing her hand in 
mortified haste, and flushing scarlet again. 

‘‘I thought perhaps you was getting ready to blow 
his head off,” exclaimed Mr. Congreve, as if in relief. 
‘‘That’s something the way you looked at me, only 
not so ferocious, no ! God bless my soul, no ! I should 
have run if it had been ; I should indeed. Now lets go 
to supper. Jeanie, come and help your old uncle along, 
and Roger, you take your Cousin Olive, and lead the 
way.” 

Olive was angry, mortified and confused, so her 
reception of Roger’s arm was none too gracious, nor the 
few words she uttered in answer to what he said, anything 
but barely audible and civil. Sensitively aware that she 
had allowed her feelings to get possession of her in 
the commencement, she tried to rectify matters now, and 
grew so frigid that there was no thawing her out. Roger 
Congreve’s eyes wore a constant twinkle, and he looked 
at her so frequently that Olive defiantly felt that he was 
laughing at her awkward confusion, and the thought 
made his prospects towards gaining, her friendship, 
none too bright. So on the whole, supper was not 
a successful meal, for Mr. Congreve never, when at 
the table, allowed any duty or pleasure to interfere with 


CONGREVE HALL. 


251 


his eating; in consequence of which, he now devoted 
himself solely to chicken and chocolate, with only an 
occasional word, shot in edgeways, between bites. Jeaa 
was worried, because Olive looked so displeased, and 
as for Mr. Congreve the younger, he soon found that their 
guest preferred to say little or nothing, so allowed her to 
have her way. Immediately at the close of the meal, 
Jean and Olive went up stairs. Mr. Congreve went 
to sleep, with a big pocket handkerchief over his 
head, and his hands folded solemnly over his waistcoat ; 
and the young gentleman took himself away, — to see 

Miss Murray,^’ said Jean, as she settled in Olive’s 
lap for a chat. I know he ’s going there, because I 
heard him tell Carl, that’s the gardener, to gather a 
beautiful bouquet.” 

For the first week the two sisters were left entirely 
to themselves ; and they talked early and late, until every 
step travelled by each ; during their separation, had 
been gone over, and made familiar with, by the other. 
Almost every day, Jean wanted to hear Ernestine’s story 
repeated, and each time it seemed to grieve her more, 
though she never failed to say with a patient trusting 
faith — She will come back, I know she will, for I ask 
God every night, and then somehow I always feel as 
though he had said to me : ‘ Wait a little longer Jean, 

I ’m not ready quite yet,’ so I ’m waiting, Olive.” 

Such perfect unquestioning faith, was something that 


252 


SIX GIRLS. 


Olive could not understand ; and many times, when Jean 
spoke in such a simple trusting way, of how she talked 
to God, and told Him her little wants and worries, the 
elder sister would feel, with a thrill of fear, that perhaps 
God was going to take unto Himself, the child, who, all 
her short life had seemed to breath the air of Heaven 
more than of earth ; and that up above, she would be 
united to the sister, who seemed lost to them below. 

They wrote home nearly every day, and Olivers letters 
were such blessings, for were they not filled, from be- 
ginning to end, with news of Jean ! How she was grow- 
ing strong and well, and would, perhaps, walk before Fall ; 
how every one, from Uncle Ridley down, were devoted to 
her, and what a little dream of luxury her life was now, 
with every want or wish gratified, and everything that 
heart could wish. And she is so sweet and unselfish,** 
writes Olive. very little angel she seems to me, 
mama, and every hour that I spend with her, helps me in 
some way. There is a little lesson for me in all her 
childish words, and I *m not ashamed to tell you that I 
wish I could be more like her, though I never can. She 
seems apart some way, and is a constant study, that be- 
comes more precious to me every day. When I pray, it 
seems to me like an important extra thing, that I must 
make some preparation for and be precise about ; and 
then I cannot help feeling, that perhaps I *m not heard 
after all, which I know is wrong; but it is so different 


CONGREVE HALL. 


253 


with Jean. She goes to God, as she would to you or 
papa, and never seems to doubt that every word is heard, 
and interested in. She is perfectly confident that 
Ernestine is coming back, and it gives me hope just to 
be near such perfect faith.” 

After having given them several days of uninterrupted 
talk, Mr. Congreve began to lay claims to more of their 
time. He said he was lonesome for Jean, and that he 
was not getting any better acquainted with Olive, than as 
if she had staid at home ; and that he thought they might 
talk to him, five minutes a day, at least ; so after that, 
Jean spent her usual time with him, and Olive brought 
bits of sewing, or a little sketch she might be working on, 
down to the library, and they spent hours together. It 
was a pleasing study, to see how this companionship with 
the girls, affected the crusty old gentleman. He would 
sit by the hour with Jean on his knee, listening to her 
quaint childish talk, and looking alternately at her and at 
Olive, sketching or sewing, in the window seat ; and the 
dear knows, what all he might be thinking about ; but it 
must have been much ; for it sometimes got the better of 
him, in a way that made easy breathing difficult, and 
brought the red handkerchief into vigorous use ; and 
then he would jump up, flurry about, as though he were 
scaring a whole brood of chickens from the room. 

‘‘ There ! clear out, clear out ; God bless my soul 1 
I want to read and be quiet awhile. Jeanie, hunt up my 


254 


SIX GIRLS. 


glasses, and get down my book, and then trot out, and 
be quick about it.” 

The first time he dismissed them in this abrupt 
fashion, Olive left with dignity, and told Jean that they 
would not trouble him again ; then she thought it 
over, and changed her mind, and went back the next 
day as usual, to his evident surprise, for he had noticed 
her heightened color the day before, and little expected 
to see her back ; so that when she came in, he gave vent 
to an astonished humph ! ” and after a moment’s pause, 
took one or two thoughtful turns around the room. 

So you are determined to put up with the crusty old 
uncle, are you ? ” he said, pausing beside her, and 
looking down at the little sketch that was growing 
under her busy fingers. Well, my dear, I ’ll turn 
in and help you ; but if I ever get too much like a 
bear to be called human, you must remember that I ’m 
getting old, and rather on the cross-grain ; and not 
mind me any more than you can help. Now I just enjoy 
seeing you sit here and sketch,” he went on more briskly. 

Robert used to sit here in this very window, and 
draw mountains and valleys, and all sorts of things, 
and he did ’em well, though not as quick and true as you. 
I suppose he would have been an artist, and a splendid 
good one, too ; but then I did n’t want him to, so 
he gave it up, — a good boy was Robert, a splendid 
good boy, and I hope the dear Lord will forgive me for 


CONGREVE HALL. 


255 


ever forgetting what my duty was to him, and letting my 
thundering temper get the better of me ; — there now, 
draw away ; I’m going off for a little tramp in the 
garden, and I ’ll be back a great deal sooner than you ’ll 
want me, I expect ; ” and off he went, with a great 
racket, which he never failed to make, when at all 
excited. 

One day, when he startled them with the usual abrupt 
dismissal, Olive did not go ; instead, she laid down 
her work, and took his book, which was a ponderous 
volume of essays. 

Now, Uncle Ridley, don’t you want me to read 
to you?” 

Read to me ! God bless my soul ! you read to 
me I Well, I never, I never did, to be sure ; where ’s 
my snuff-box? — you read to me? No, I think not; 
you — you ’ll read too fast, and clatter your words up, 
and I ’ll have to work like a steam engine to keep up 
with you ; no, on the whole, I guess not, I guess not.” 

Olive’s first thought was to put the book down, 
and leave, but her second was the one she acted 
upon. 

‘‘I’ll read slow,” she said, “and as distinctly as I 
can; shall I try?” 

“ Well, humph ! I guess you may ; sit down there, 
and go slow;” with which remark, he sat back in his 
chair, spread the red handkerchief over his face. 


256 


SIX GIRLS. 


and Olive began to read. She read well, slowly and 
distinctly, and in a little wliile, the clear voice attracted 
another listener, who came in quietly, and studied 
the young reader’s thoughtful face, from his seat in 
a distant corner. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 

^‘.Why, Kat, what is the matter?*^ 

‘‘Nothing; not a blessed thing; I*m just trjdng to 
see how big a goose I can be. Where did you come 
from?” 

“Down town. Why, child, you look as if you had 
been crying for hours. What is the matter?” 

“ Nothing, I tell you ; take my word, and get out 
of the way, for I *m going to jump ;” and down she 
came from above, with a swinging leap that brought 
a shower of half-ripe apples with her, and filled the 
air with leaves. “I had the dumps a little, and IVe 
been sitting here in the tree crying over this book, 
until my nose is so big that I cannot see over it, and 
my eyes ache terribly.” 


*7 


2g8 


SIX GIRLS. 


should think they would, and you look dread- 
fully frowzled,’^ said Bea, smoothing down her own 
dress, with an air of self-approval. Really, Kat — 

Oh, come now, don’t. I never was, and never 
will be a pink of propriety ; and I would like to have 
a little peace and rest from lectures. You and Kittie are 
getting so orderly and band-boxy-fied, that there ’s 
no pleasure living. I ’ll be glad when Olive comes 
back, for she is n’t quite so distressingly particular ! ” 
exclaimed Kat, who was evidently in anything but 
the best of humors. 

Well, don’t get fussy about it, and I won’t say any 
more,” promised Bea, with a conciliatory smile. “Be- 
sides, I ’ve got some good news. We are invited to Mrs, 
Raymond’s picnic, next Wednesday ! ” 

“ You don’t say so ; hurrah ! ” cried Kat, in a sudden 
gale of delight, her eyes beginning to sparkle behind 
their still wet lashes. 

“ What oceans of bliss ! Who did you see ? ” 

“ Clara and Lou ; they were just coming out here 
to invite us, when I met them. It will be splendid ; 
they are going ten miles out, and they supply carriages 
for all, and there will be boating and dancing, and games, 
and just everything delightful.” 

Kat spun around on her heel enthusiastically, and 
threw a handful of small apples into the air. “ Of 
course there will,” she cried. “Raymonds’, never do 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 259 


anything except in the most stylish way. That *s the 
fun of being rich.” 

I Ve just been down to call on Miss Barnett,” said 
Bea, stooping to pick some imaginary burr from her 
dress. They are invited, too.” 

Ah, indeed,” said Kat, with a mischievous chuckle, 
I suppose of course, you are glad, for you want Miss 
Barnett to have a good time, don’t you ? ” 

Of course,” answered Bea, with much composure, 
and a little color. “ She is a very pleasant young lady, 
and I would like to invite them here one evening before 
she goes home.” 

‘^Nothing to prevent that I can see,” said Kat, unless 
the doctor should object ; but then, I don’t think he will.” 

“I shall ask mama,” continued Bea, without noticing 
the little sly remark. ‘‘I need not have many, about 
fifteen is enough ; and we might have cake, you know.” 

‘‘Yes, cake and water; cheap and original ; she won’t 
expect much, for I suppose the doctor has told her that 
we are poor as Job’s turkey.’ 

“ I suppose he has not,” corrected Bea, with some mild 
resentment. “ He would have no occasion to mention 
us in connection with such a subject. Besides, we’re 
not as poor as that.” 

“Just go by it then,” laughed Kat. “But you shall 
have a party, dear, if I have to paint the hole in the car- 
pet and do all the work. We ’ll have a party or die.” 


260 


SIX GIRLS. 


Very much the same conclusion, only a little more 
mildly put, Mrs. Dering came to, when Bea made her 
modest request, with a pretty color in her face. 

‘‘ I know the parlor furniture is shabby, but it won’t 
show so much at night,” Bea explained. ‘'And we might 
just have cake and coffee, you know, mama.” 

“Yes, dear, quite a nice little idea; and I think we 
can do it without any trouble,” answered Mrs. Dering, 
with that degree of motherly interest that is always so 
encouraging. “ How many would you like to have, and 
on what evening?” 

“How good you are ! ” cried Bea, with a grateful hug, 
before she answered any questions. “Twelve is enough, 
don’t you think so ! Perhaps we ’d like to dance, or if 
the moon should be very bright, we could play croquet 
and row on the pond. 

“Quite delightful ideas. And what evening, dear? ” 

“Next — the picnic is on Wednesday. I guess on 
Friday evening would be the best ; Miss Barnett goes 
home on the next Tuesday.’^ 

“ On Friday evening next. Well, I will spend the 
meantime studying up my receipt-book, for its been a 
long time since I made a fancy cake,” laughed Mrs. 
Dering. “ As to the parlor, I think you had better go 
right in and see what is needed there.” 

“ So we had. Come on girls ; ” and off fluttered Bea, 
with a blithe song on her lips, and followed by Kittie 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN- WOOD TREE. 261 


and Kat, who were consumed with excitement at the 
prospect of a picnic and party in one week. 

The parlors were quite large double rooms that had 
never been fully furnished, but had received chairs and a 
table or two, by degrees ; a lounge at one time, a couple 
of stools at another, and, lastly, a what-not, at which 
point contributions towards furnishing them ceased. The 
carpet was rather shabby, from long use, and in one or 
two places was worn perfectly white, which must be re- 
medied in some way, as they looked alarmingly big. The 
girls opened the door, and Kat immediately said : 

Curtains must be washed.’* 

Sweeping the carpet with salt and tea-leaves brightens 
it up,” added Kittie, throwing open the blinds, and letting 
the sunlight in. 

“ Goodness, how that makes everything look ! ” cried 
Bea, in sudden dismay. 

‘‘ But it does n’t shine at night,” said Kat, consolingly. 

Bless me ! how the back of the big chair is worn I 
what shall we do? ” 

‘‘ Make a big tidy out of darning-cotton,” answered 
Kittie. ‘‘ That ’s pretty and cheap, and I know a lovely 
stitch, and can put long fringe on.” 

‘‘ Capital idea ! ” assented Kat, with an approving 
nod. 

‘‘We’ll have to bring something in out of the sitting- 
room,” said Bea, pushing the chairs around, with a view 


262 


SIX GIRLS. 


to making one fill the space required by two. There ’s 
so much room, and it makes things look so skimpy.” 

Don’t have everything pushed back so,” advised 
Kittie, giving a twitch here and a pull there, that brought 
things to more social angles, and left less space. ^‘See 
that fills out some, and in that corner we can put the 
wire rack and fill it with flowers and vines.” 

‘‘But the rack is so rusty,” said Bea, only half 
relieved. 

“ There ’s some green paint in the wood-shed, and I ’ll 
touch it up,” said Kittie, becoming thoroughly interested. 
“ We can make a lovely corner-piece out of it ; there ’s 
all those limestones down in the yard, and some 
of them are such pretty shapes, that will look lovely set 
in moss, with vines going over them. We can hang the 
baskets in the windows, and when the curtains are fresh 
and clean, it will look so pretty.” 

“ Hurrah for my better half,” cried Kat, with a flourish 
of her hat. “ It’s bliss to hear you talk. Your words 
are like wisdom and — butter-scotch.” 

“What’s in the wind?” asked an interested voice 
from the window. “ And what ’s all this I hear about 
limestones and butter-scotch and wisdom?” 

“Don’t you wish you knew?” said Kat, with an un- 
friendly grimace. 

“ I do, indeed ; and what ’s more I ’m going to find 
out, because you will tell me, won’t you. Posy ? ” said the 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 263 


new-comer, appealing to Bea, by the nickname which her 
prettily- colored cheeks had won from him. 

Oh, yes, of course ; and you must make yourself 
useful. I ’m going to give a little company for Miss 
Barnett,’’ said Bea, with a friendly nod, to make up for 
Kat’s ungraciousness. 

So-ho, a party, and we are all going to make our 
ddbut, are we ? ” asked Ralph, swinging himself into the 
open window, and taking a seat on the sill, with an air of 
interest. Good ! Tell me what you want done, and 
I’m ready, Posy.” 

‘‘ We ’d like to have you take yourself off, somewhere, 
and stay till the day after the party,” was Kat’s uncom- 
plimentary remark. 

And I would like to oblige you, my dear, but I 
couldn’t stay away from you that long,” retorted 
Ralph, 

I’m not your dear, shut up;” cried Kat, flapping* 
her hat, and scowling at the handsome, laughing face. 

‘‘There,” cried Bea, with a suddenly exhausted air. 
“ I don’t see any way of filling that big space between the 
windows in the back parlor. Dear me, I wish there was 
more furniture.” 

“ Bring the piano in,” advised Ralph. “ That ’s just 
exactly the place for it, and it ought to be in here on 
such an occasion.” 

“ Gk)odness ! To be sure, but there ’s the expense of 


264 


SIX GIRLS. 


moving,” exclaimed Bea with a longing sigh. ‘^And it 
would have to go back, of course.” 

Why ? Leave it here, a parlor’s the place for a piano.” 
‘‘Yes, but that would never do,” said Bea with de- 
cision. “ We always sit in the other room, because it is 
so much more sunshiny and cozy than these big parlors ; 
and it would seem deserted without the piano there, 
especially in the evenings.” 

“ Reasons very good and accepted,” assented Ralph. 
“ The only thing left to be done, is to decide whether or 
no, the piano shall come in and go back ; ready, those 
who want it so ; — and remember, I ’m going to attend to 
it. Now then : yea or nay ? ” 

“ Yea,” cried the girls, in one delighted breath ; after 
which, Bea ornamented him with a rose-bud, in token of 
her thanks, Kittie beamed untold gratitude upon him, 
and Kat remarked with condescension : “ You can be a 

•first-rate trump, when you take a notion ” 

“ I ’m overcome,” said Ralph, with both hands over his 
heart, and leaving his seat to make an extravagant bow — 
“ To receive a bud from Posy, a smile from Kittie, and 
the assurance from my unconquerable Kathleen, that I 
can be a trump ; is too much ; I therefore hope you will 
excuse me for leaving you somewhat abruptly, ladies ;” 
and out of the window he went with a flying leap, 
and Kat, watching him stroll down the yard, made 
another astonishing admission : 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 265 


‘‘ He ’s very handsome, if he is such a bother,’^ she 
said, putting on her hat with a reflective air. I don’t 
know, but what he might become quite civilized, if he 
staid here long enough.” 

Between the picnic and the party, the girls were kept 
pretty busy for the next few days, and the house was very 
merry, for busy hands with happy hearts, bring chat- 
tering tongues and joyous laughter; and these summer 
days were gleeful ones. 

To be sure, some accidents happened, both comical 
and disastrous, and in fact, it never was otherwise, if 
anything was going on in which Kat had a hand. 

On the impulse of an unlucky moment she offered 
to paint the flower-rack, as Kittie was busy ; so rigged 
in a big torn flat, and a pair of fingerless gloves, she 
went to work, and painted the bottom first, with 
flourishing success; but left it out over night, when it 
rained and splashed her work with mud ; then she began 
over, and did the top first, and then hung the pot on a 
little hook, and went over the bottom again ; but in the 
midst of her zeal, the pot slipped, turned over, and 
deluged her head and body with slopping green paint, 
and would have ruined her eyes, if she had n’t shut them 
tight with the first gasp of amaze ; and when she tried to 
walk to the house with them closed, the wheel-barrow 
stood in the way, and over she went, with a shriek of 
dismay that brought the whole household flying to the 


266 


SIX GIRLS. 


Spot ; after which the afflicted damsel was picked up, and 
carried tenderly to the kitchen to be worked with. 

Ralph finished the rack, and Kat heard him remark, 
that she had daubed enough paint on one knob, to do for 
half the rack. It didn’t make her feel any better. 

In her zeal to get the parlors clean, Bea had climbed 
the step-ladder to wash some ancient dust from the top 
of the folding doors, but the ladder tilted, and over she 
went soap suds and all ; and in answer to a wailing cry, 
the rescuing family once more put in an appearance, to 
find that the cleanly heroine, had wrenched her ankle, 
and could not step on it, but must be carried to the 
sitting-room, to have the afflicted member rubbed with 
arnica. 

“ I tried to jump,” she explained with pathetic rivers 
of tears. Oh dear, what shall I do ? I can’t go to the 
picnic — nor have the company — nor anything — and 
I think it’s too b-b-ad.” 

Perhaps it is not so serious,” said Mrs. Bering, with 
comfort in her voice, and in her swift careful fingers that 
were binding the swollen ankle in cool bands. You 
will have to be perfectly still, and by Wednesday, I think 
it will be well ; it is only a little twist, so don’t feel so 
cast down dear.” But Bea refused to be comforted, and 
sobbed herself to sleep that night. Not to go to the 
picnic, when Dr. Barnett had asked her to go in the 
phaeton with them, oh, it was too bad, surely ! 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 267 


Beyond hammering one of her fingers, till the nail 
swelled up with insulted feeling, and threatened to come 
off, nothing happened to Kittie, who considered herself 
specially blessed, and did her whole head up in papers on 
Monday night, so as to be sure and have it curl for Wed- 
nesday. 

When Tuesday arrived, Bea had sunk to the lowest 
ebb. She knew she couldn’t go, and there was no use 
talking. She was the most unfortunate girl that ever 
lived, and no one could deny it ; and after making this 
assertion numberless times during the day, she gave up 
and cried despondingly, giving herself full freedom as she 
was alone ; and so it happened that a young man came 
up the walk, and finding the front door open, came in, 
and a moment later, stood transfixed at the sitting-room 
threshold, to behold that utterly crushed looking figure 
on the lounge, with dishevelled hair, and hidden face ; 
while the most heart-broken sobs crept out from behind 
a drenched handkerchief. No wonder he was alarmed, 
or that his voice trembled when he asked : 

*‘What is the matter — what has happened?” 

Bea nearly fell off the lounge in dismay, and only gave 
him one brief, startled glimpse of her wet face, then she 
stopped crying, and said after a reflective pause : 

Nothing — I guess.” 

Nothing,” he repeated, with a breath of relief, and 
then began to laugh. 


268 


SIX GIRLS. 


Won’t you come in, Dr. Barnett ? ” said the discom- 
fited weeper from behind her handkerchief, and with an 
attempt at dignity. ** Excuse me for not rising ; I’m — 
I ’m lame.” 

The little hitch in her voice betrayed her grief; but, 
dear me ! he was all interest now. He drew a chair 
close to the lounge, professional habit, no doubt, and 
ventured to touch one of the hands that supported the 
doleful looking handkerchief. 

‘‘Won’t you let me see you? When did this 
happen ? ” 

“ Saturday. No, you can’t see me ; I ’ve been crying 
an hour.” 

“ Is the pain so great? ” 

Oh, no wonder this young M.D. was so popular if his 
voice was always thus tender and anxious in making 
inquiries. 

“ Pain ! no, but,” with a little hysterical sob, “ I can’t 
go to the picnic ! ” 

Now you need n’t smile at this frank explanation, for 
he did not. Bless you ! no ; he looked as if he had three 
minds to cry too, and if Mrs. Dering had n’t entered at 
that moment, there ’s no telling what he might have said 
by way of sympathy. As it was, he returned her cordial 
greeting, and began to express his regret in polite tenns, 
but with much warmth of feeling that could not be con- 
cealed. 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 269 


Is it quite impossible, do you think? ” Lottie will be 
so disappointed ; ” he said, regardless of the fact that he 
was making Lottie do double duty, in the way of disap- 
pointment ; but Bea took the remark in all good faith, 
and thought it was very sweet of Lottie to care whether 
she went or not. 

I don’t know,” answered Mrs. Dering, thoughtfully. 

It was only a little twist, and she stood on it this morn- 
ing, didn’t you, Bea?” 

Yes, mama,” said Bea, coming out from behind her 
handkerchief in eager interest. I did for several min- 
utes, and it didn’t hurt hardly any.” 

, Suppose you try again,” said Dr. Barnett with unpro- 
fessional haste to test an injured member. Take my 
arm, and lets see if you cannot walk a step or two.” 

Bea did so, with a shy blush, and stood up ; then after 
a moment, took a few steps, with the color coming and 
going in her cheeks, for more reasons than one ; and, 
though it was very pleasant to feel her clinging to his 
arm in that helpless way. Dr. Barnett made her sit down ; 
but passed his opinion that she could go to the picnic. 

Do you really think so ? ” said Bea, with delighted 
eagerness. 

I do, if you will be content to sit in the carriage all 
day,” he answered, looking down at her, as though he 
thought a much swollen nose and highly colored eyes 
were the most adorable sights ; and Bea looked up at 


270 


SIX GIRLS. 


him, then blushed, without any reason whatever, where- 
upon Mrs. Dering made some hasty remark about the de- 
sirable weather for picnics, and the doctor decided, all of 
a sudden, that he must go, which he accordingly did. 

What a glorious hub-bub a picnic morning is, espe- 
cially when there are several in one home interested in 
its perfect success. Neither of the girls slept much. 
Bea could n’t have told what kept her awake, but some- 
how, her eyes would remain open, and she was dimly 
conscious, of smiling several times in the dark, and feeling 
very happy. Once she came very near humming out a 
little air, that seemed to be singing itself over and over in 
her heart, but she suppressed the desire, out of considera- 
tion for others, who were less blissfully affected. Kittie 
declared that there was no use trying to sleep, because 
Kat kept getting up every few minutes, to look out and 
see if it was going to rain ; and Kat, in turn, said that 
Kittie had sat up all night, because her crimping papers 
hurt her so she could n’t lie down. At just four o’clock 
everybody was fully awakened, by the twins clattering 
down stairs with a great racket, and getting breakfast 
under headway, and Mrs. Dering, awakened from her 
morning nap, consoled herself with a fervent — Bless 
the children, I ’m glad this does n’t happen often.” 

It ’s going to rain,” cried Kat, with a despairing 
wail. ‘‘ See that cloud ? ” 

Stuff! ” echoed Kittie. It isn’t as big as a door- 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 271 


knob.** But nevertheless, they both let breakfast burn, 
while running every few moments to see if it was 
swelling any bigger, and were fully rewarded by seeing 
it dwindle and sail away over the barn before six 
o*clock. 

No, it didn*t rain, and before the sun was 
through his earliest infancy, they were all ready, and 
Dr. Barnett*s phaeton stood at the gate, with Miss 
Lottie in a pretty picnic suit ; and her brother deeply 
absorbed in the pleasing task of getting Bea down 
to the gate without hurting her ankle. Ralph officiated 
on one side of the interesting cripple, and took a wicked 
satisfaction in doing the greatest share of the supporting ; 
but then the doctor was reasonable, and was as happy as 
possible with what fell to his share ; and Bea, — well, Bea 
was perfectly content. 

They drove off with an accompanying shout from 
those left . behind, and a few moments later, Ralph 
and the twins departed on foot to meet the carriages 
that were all to assemble at a certain place. 

Quite a little flutter of admiration went round as 
this trio came up, for Ralph was a very handsome centre 
piece, and the twins in their very becoming costumes and 
wide-awake hats, cocked up at one side after the pre- 
vailing fashion, made pictures of great attractiveness on 
each side. Everybody was there, and everybody was 
laughing and talking merrily, and everybody had a word 


272 


SIX GIRLS. 


of greeting for the new arrivals. Of all the old school- 
girls from Miss Howard’s, Kittie and Kat were the only 
two who did not make pretensions towards young lady- 
hood ; and just now, there was something so girlish and 
sweet about them, in their fresh calico suits, and bright 
young faces under the big hats, that one or two strangers 
asked who they were, all the elder people smiled 
approval, while the young ones, with an eye on the 
handsome cousin, nodded sweetly, and were quite 
attentive. 

Look at Susie Darrow,” whispered Kat, under cover 
of her lowered hat. “ All tricked out in silk, and a little 
gipsy bonnet, with a white plume ; and she ’s been 
smiling at me every minute, and Ralph thinks she ’s the 
biggest goose out. I ’ll tell her so.” 

‘‘ No, goodness no ; let her smile if she wants to, she ’ll 
soon find out that it’s no use,” answered Kittie. 

There’s Sadie Brooks too, she’s been in New York, 
and has got an eye-glass, dear sakes alive, just watch 
her use it, will you?” 

Good morning girls, you look a couple of daisies ; ” 
said Mrs. Raymond, going by with a nod and a smile. 
“You and your cousin, are to go in our carriage, the girls 
want you,” and away she went, like a busy happy soul 
that she was. * 

“ The Raymond girls look sensible,” said Kittie, with 
an air of approval ; “ see they have on short dresses. 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. '273 


and big hats ; I think Lou is prettier than Clara, don’t 
you ? ” 

‘^Rather,” answered Kat, too much taken up in 
watching her former play-mates, to notice others. 
Susie Darrow had been to boarding-school, Sadie 
Brooks to New York, and May Moore was going to the 
sea-side next month ; so they were all much uplifted in 
mind and manner, and took unto themselves the airs 
of thoroughly initiated society-ladies. 

‘‘Girls?” said Miss Brooks, with her little affected 
drawl, and raising her eye-glass in her lavender kid- 
fingers. “ Which ones do you mean, I do not quite un- 
derstand? ” 

“ Those two under the big tree,” replied her questioner, 
a visitor in Canfield. “ Twins they are, in the big hats.” 

“ Oh ! Yes.” Miss Brooks’s eye-glass went slowly to 
the place indicated, and took a leisure survey. “You 
mean the little girls in calico dresses; they are the 
Derings, I believe, but really, being in the city so long, 
I find I am quite forgetting old faces.” 

“ Indeed,” was the reply, with a respectful air, though 
the desire to laugh was almost irresistible. The little 
girls in calico dresses were fifteen, and taller than Miss 
Brooks, who was just sixteen ; but then, dear me, she 
had on a train of party length, bushels of banged hair, a 
little wisp of a bonnet, and little fine black marks along 
her lower eyelid, so altogether she looked about twenty,. 

i8 


274 


SIX GIRLS. 


and was perfectly satisfied with herself. She could not 
look ahead to the dissatisfaction that would be hers 
when she became twenty, and looked to be twenty- 
eight. 

When they started, ten merry carriage-loads, everybody 
stood in their doors, and hung over the front gates 
to see them off, for Canfield was a social little place, 
and felt a deep interest in anything going on within 
its limits ; so if good wishes could make a successful 
day, surely they would have it. 

Well, they did have it; yes, indeed, they did; and 
a happier set of young people were never turned wild 
in green-woods. To be sure, there were some draw- 
backs ; for instance, when a dozen or so went off 
to swing in a wild-grape vine, Sadie Brooks couldn’t 
go, her dress was too long, and it would tear her 
gloves. Likewise, when they played ‘‘ drop the hand- 
kerchief,” “blind-man,” and “down on this carpet,” 
Susie Darrow could n’t join, because her tie-back would 
hardly admit of sitting down, let alone racing in the 
woods ; besides, the wind blew her white plume all 
up, and took the crimp out of her hair, and then she 
lost her lace handkerchief, and did n’t receive much 
attention from handsome Ralph Tremayne; and al- 
together, she lost her temper, declared picnics a bore, 
and told May Moore that no one but romps ever came 
to them anyhow, which, considering that both she 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 275 


and May were in attendance, was a remark which 
might have been improved on. 

Sitting in a carriage all day proved to be no hardship 
to Bea, for did n’t Dr. Barnett spend nearly all his 
time there ? and at Miss Lottie’s proposal, did n’t 
several of them trim the phaeton in boughs and vines, 
and deck her out in flowers until she looked like a 
forest queen ? and aside from being a favorite, did n’t 
she receive so much sympathy that there was a con- 
stant court before and around her throne? and above 
it all, don’t you suppose a certain pair of eyes, as 
they looked at her that day, told her a certain story 
more plainly than the owner’s lips ever could? That 
she was the fairest and dearest picture to him, there, 
or elsewhere? 

^‘Who is that young lady — little girl, I am almost 
disposed to call her, with the fresh young face and 
lovely eyes? The one who stands on the bank, there, 
with the wreath of leaves on her hat ? ” 

Mrs. Raymond’s brother asked the question, as he 
sat with his sister on an elevated spot under a big tree, 
surveying the gay crowds roaming about in all directions. 

‘‘That? It is one of the Dering twins,” answered 
Mrs. Raymond, with a smile of interest. “ But I 
don’t know which ; they are not to be distinguished ; 
they are lovely girls, so fresh and unaffected. I suppose 
you have noticed them both?” 


276 


SIX GIRLS. 


^^Yes, and I disagree with you, for they are to be 
distinguished; I have been watching them with con- 
siderable interest. There; the other one is coming 
down the hill now; do you mean to tell me that you 
see no difference ? 

Well, surely not in face or figure,” replied Mrs. 
Raymond, with a puzzled glance. I see that the 
new-comer’s hat is hanging to her neck, and has no 
trimming, that her gloves are gone, and she has the 
general appearance of having gone through a wind- 
mill.” 

‘‘And you have struck the distinction admirably, 
my dear,” was the smiling answer. “There was some- 
thing in their faces that interested me this morning, 
and I have noticed them a great deal. So far as I 
can see, the one has had just as gay a time as the 
other, and done very nearly as much romping; and 
yet you see, she looks as fresh and sweet as when 
starting out, with the addition of much becoming 
trimming ; and where she has gone heartily, yet with 
a girlish grace, the other has gone pell-mell, as though 
in dehance of any restriction on feminine gender. 
Do you know which is which?” 

“ Indeed, I do not,” said Mrs. Raymond, who was 
not acquainted with the characteristics of the twins. 
“All I know is that one is Kittie and the other Kat, 
and that I never know which is which when I am 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEIT-WOOD TREE. 277 


talking to them, never having had time to study them 

up.” 

“Well, I will wager my shoe-buckle, that the one 
on the bank is Kittie, and the hatless one Kat,** was 
the quiet response. “At least, that is the way it 
ought to be. Now I should like to meet Miss Kittie, 
and if you — ” 

“Is it possible?” cried the lady, throwing up her 
hands in amaze. “You, who would only consent to 
come, on condition that you need not be introduced, 
and play the agreeable to the young ladies; well, 
well! who would have thought it, Paul?” 

“The generality of young ladies are bores,” was 
the reply. “I did not expect to meet such a fresh 
faced, lovely young girl ; for society never allows them 
to remain so, if it gets hold of them.” 

“It will never be so with these girls,” said Mrs. 
Raymond. “ They have too sensible and lovely 
a mother, and besides, they are a family much 
devoted among themselves ; there are five sisters, 
you will remember my telling you about the other 
one, Ernestine, she sang like an angel; and another 
one is an artist, the youngest a cripple, and — 
well they all seem to live solely for each other, 
so require little from society. I admire them all very 
much.” 

“So do I, from what I hear,” said the gentleman. 


278 


SIX GIRLS. 


getting up from his grassy seat, and glancing down at 
the bank. ‘‘Shall I assist you? 

“No, indeed; I’m not old yet, if I am grey,” 
laughed Mrs. Raymond, jumping nimbly up to prove 
her assertion. “I don’t know what the ladies will say, 
Paul, to see you finally succumbing to feminine at- 
tractions ; they have all eyed you in your seclusion 
with evident regret. You know there is something 
singularly attractive about a widower, young or old ; 
though I suppose you have found that out,” she added 
with a sister’s fond belief that her brother is irresist- 
ible in every way. 

“ Yes, I dislike conceit ; but I have found out a few 
things in the last four years,” he answered, smiling ; 
then uttering a little exclamation of disappointment, as 
they reached the foot of the hill, and found that Kittie 
had disappeared from the bank. 

“ Great oaks from little acorns grow.” Sometimes 
they do in books, sometimes they do out; and this 
afternoon in the sunshiny woods, two little acorns had 
been planted. One of them was when Paul Murray 
had looked with careless eyes into Kittie Dering’s 
face, and found in its bright girlish sweetness, what 
had been lacking for him, in any woman’s face since 
he lost his wife ; namely — interest. He was a grave, 
thoughtful faced man, with just a dash of grey on his 
temples, and a listless air of world-weariness, that 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 279 


made him look beyond his years ; for he was only 
twenty-eight ; and yet he had had a vigorous cuffing 
from the reed-shaken hand of Fortune, and had come 
to regard himself with a sort of pitying disapprobation, 
such as falls upon us when we know we have a duty 
to perform, yet think it too great, and hesitate between 
self-condolence and accusation. 

He had seen the day of wild oats, and had sown 
them, but had drawn back ere they sprung into 
life and choked out all else. He had had riches 

and lost them ; had married a lovely loving girl, only 
to have her taken from him in one short year; 
then to deaden his grief he had gone to work, 

regained his wealth, after which he left his infant 
daughter in tender hands, and had gone abroad, only 
to again lose all he had in an unfortunate speculation, 
which brought him home, where he had again gone 
to work, but with a listless, disinterested way, that had 
brought him little success. 

So, to-day, he was a lawyer, struggling as though 
he had just entered the bar. So, I say, he felt 

like a man without an incentive. To be sure, there 
was his little daughter, but then he had really 

seen so little of the child, and for a time there had 
been almost a bitter feeling against her, because, in 
gaining her life, she had taken her young mother’s, 
and left him desolate; and then if he was to die, 


280 


SIX GIRLS. 


she was amply provided for by her grandmother. 
He had yet to learn, that, though severely dealt 
with, he had still much to live for. 

The other little acorn had fallen in kindred ground, 
in no less place, than the loving little heart of Pansy 
Murray. 

The brother and sister were strolling rather aimlessly 
about, with a word here and there to chattering groups, 
and an occasional glance around to see if Kittie was 
in sight, when, who should they see, but that young 
lady coming slowly towards them, with her arms filled 
with a familiar bundle, that showed signs of life, as 
they came in sight of each other. It thus remarked 
with much excitement : 

I was losted, I was, papa, behind a big tree, an’ 
I was a kyin’ dreffully when the lady finded me, I 
was.” 

‘‘Lost? Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Raymond, 
snatching the child in a hurry, and forgetting all in- 
troductions. “Why, I told the girls not to lose sight 
of you. Pansy.” 

“But they did,” said Pansy, with a blissful smile, as 
though she had done something great. “They bothered 
me dreadfully, saying : ‘Come, Pansy,’ ‘Don’t go there. 
Pansy,’ till I went right off for sure ’thout telling one 
body, and then I got losted mos’ right away, and I wished 
I could hear somebody say ‘ Come, Pansy,’ but nobody 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN- WOOD TREE. 281 

did, so I jes^ began to commence to holler, ^th all my- 
might, and the lady earned right off ; I think *twas drefful 
good for her to.’^ 

Kat lost her breastpin, and I was helping look for 
it,” said Kittie, with a modest blush, being quite over- 
come with the gratitude visible in both faces before her. 
^‘She wasn’t very far away.” 

“ I was far away,” corrected Pansy with decision. I 
was more ’n ’leventeen miles, and I expected to see a 
big bear mos’ every minute, I did, and I know one would 
have earned if the lady had n’t ; and I jes’ love her 
very much, I do.” 

Oh, yes ; excuse me,” said Mrs. Raymond, hastily. 

Paul, this is Miss Dering ; my brother, Mr. Murray ; 
and we ’re so thankful to you, Kittie.” 

Kittie bowed and blushed still more, as Mr. Murray 
repeated his gratitude, but as she turned to leave. Pansy 
cried vehemently : 

You stay with me, ’cause I want you, and you go 
home with me' and my papa in the little buggy; tell 
her so quick, right off, papa.” 

Of course what could Mr. Murray do but say 
politely : 

I should be most pleased. Miss Dering, if you would 
allow me to be cruel enough to take you from the gay 
party.” 

Kittie did not know the invitation came from a 


282 


SIX GIRLS. 


society lion, who refused to be caught, and the 
depths of her innocent heart never dreamed how 
pleased he was, at thus being forced into giving it; 
she only knew that she had much rather go home 
in the carriage, with the girls, and was quite un- 
conscious that the thought shone in her eyes, but Mr. 
Murray saw it and hastily added : 

It would be too unkind, after all. Do not consider 
it another moment ; only tell me if you will allow Pansy 
and me to come and take you to ride some evening 
soon.” 

^‘Yes, thank you,” answered Kittie. ‘^I should be 
very much pleased.” 

Some one shouted her name through the woods just 
then, and with a little bow and smile, she went away, 
leaving Mr. Murray to comfort Pansy, as he said 
slowly : 

‘‘A delightfully natural, and charming little girl ! We 
will go and take her to ride soon; so don’t cry. 
Pansy.” 

Well the blissful day came to an end, as all days will, 
though they prolonged it to the last minute and did not 
reach home until after dark ; and then everybody forgot 
how tired they were, and said with a sigh of pleasing 
memory, ‘‘ How delightful it was, to be sure ! ” 

‘‘ I had a lovely time,” said Bea, smiling to herself in 
the dark, after they had gone to bed. 


UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 283 


Well, I’m sure I did,” added Kittie, hugging her 
pillow with a tired, contented sigh, and thankful that 
she had no crimps in the way. 

Well, I didn’t find my pin, and I tore my dress, and 
knocked my head till I saw stars, on that grape vine, but 
I had a grand tip-top time, and I ’d like to go again, yes, 
I would, if only to see Sadie Brooks wiggle her eye-glass 
and say, ‘ How shocking ! ’ when I walked the log 
across the creek,” was Kat’s final remark as she dropped 
into worn-out slumber. 


CHAPTER XVIL 


SEVERAL THINGS. 

On Friday morning, while the girls were flying busily 
around, and Mrs. Dering was deep in the task of getting 
a tall cake browned just to a turn, there came a note 
from Mrs. Dane. 

** How unfortunate,” she ihused, reading it hurriedly, as 
the girls ran in to see what it was. ‘‘ Mr. Dane has gone 
to the city and will not be back until ten to night, and 
Mrs. Dane wants me to come and stay with her, as she 
has one of her dreadful nervous attacks. I feel as though 
I ought to go, if you can spare me girls ! ” 

‘‘Things will go higgle-ty-piggle-ty, sure as the world, 
said Kat, balancing on the edge of the table, and fanning 
with the duster. 

“ No, they will not either,” corrected Bea. “We ought 
to be ashamed if they do. Go, of course, mama, though I 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


285 


will be dreadfully sorry not to have you here this 
evening/' 

The cake is not quite done, and has to be iced," 
said Mrs. Dering, glancing from the fire to the clock. 

1 don’t know, — " 

I ’ll finish it,” said Kittie, letting down her dress, 
and replacing her sweeping cap with a big kitchen 
apron Go, and get ready mama, then come and 
tell me how to do the icing; the cake will be done 
by that time.” 

It must cool first, but you can get five eggs, and 
take the whiles, get the beater and the sugar, and 
then I ’ll be back,” replied Mrs. Dering, brushing 
some flour from her sleeves, and hurrying out. 

Now something is going to happen,” said Kat 
with prophetic certainty. I feel it in my bones, 
and I bet you a postage-stamp it will be my fault.” 

‘‘Then I’d advise you to be careful,” said Kittie, 
taking a hurried peep into the oven. 

“ Never I ” cried Kat. . “ Something would be sure 
to go wrong then ; it always does when I ’m trying 
my very level best to be a credit to my family. The 
only thing for me to do, is to go at it with a slap and 
a bang; then things twist about like proper magic.” 

“What nonsense!” said Kittie, breaking eggs with 
deft fingers. “ Have you cleaned the lamps yet ? ” 
“No, nor done much else either; it’s too hot; 


286 


SIX GIRLS. 


the thermometer is boiling, down cellar, and Ralph 
said that I was so good natured that I ’d turn to 
grease if I got too heated, so I ^m being careful, you 
see,’’ said Kat, with a lazy laugh ; and she sat in the 
window and fanned, with the duster in one hand and 
the egg-beater in the other. 

Well, I think the parlors look so pretty,” said Kittie, 
with an air of relief, as the last egg deposited its silvery 
white in the big platter. ^^What an addition a piano 
is, and how nicely the curtains are done up ; every- 
thing seems to be going right.” 

I smell the cake ; it ’s burning ! ” cried Kat, 
jumping from her seat in a hurry; but Kittie threw 
open the oven, and jerked out the precious contents 
which did smell burnt, and was deep black right 
around one edge. 

What a shame ! ” she cried regretfully ; but Kat 
resumed her seat with the comforting remark : 

“ Slice it over, and cover it up with icing ; it will 
never show in the world ; you see, if I had n’t been 
in here, it would have been burnt up.” 

“ I guess I ’ve got a nose,” retorted Kittie, begin- 
ning to beat eggs with a swiftness that brought high 
color to her cheeks. Now go on, Kat, and fix the 
lamps and help Bea, for she mustn’t be on her foot 
much.” 

^‘That’s right, beat them just as stiff as possible 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


287 


before you put in the sugar/* said Mrs. Dering, com- 
ing in with her things on, to note the progress, and 
leave orders. Put it on with a large knife as smoothly 
as possible, then set it down cellar. As to the coffee, 
you know about that just as well as I do. The milk 
that is raising cream is on the back swing-shelf, down 
cellar. That is all, isnt it?’* 

‘‘Yes’m, and I guess we’ll manage all right. Tell 
Mrs. Dane I *m sorry she *s sick. Good-bye.” 

Everything looks beautiful, and I hope you *11 have 
a pleasant time, dears,” was Mrs. Dering’s next remark, 
as she glanced into the parlors on her way out. Don’t 
tax your ankle too much, Bea, and Kat, try and not 
have anything happen to you this time. I suppose 
I will be here before they all go home, but if I am 
not, present my compliments and regrets. A merry 
time to you all. Good-bye.” 

There, how does that look?” asked Kat, balancing 
herself on the step-ladder with a caution born of bitter 
experience, and looking cock-eyed at the blooming 
basket she had just hung. 

‘‘Beautiful,” answered Bea, with her head, in a big 
sweeping-cap, turned admiringly side-ways. “Yes, that 
effect is lovely. I hope it will look as pretty by lamp- 
light. There comes Ralph with two big packages. I 
wonder what they are : something good, I expect?” 

Kat sat down on the ladder to look out the window. 


SIX GIRLS. 


as Bea hurried out on to the porch to meet the young 
man of packages, and receive his burdens, if they were 
offered to her. 

“ I was meditating this morning,” said Ralph, sitting 
down on the steps with an exhausted air. ‘*And it 
struck me, that to drink coffee on such a night as 
this — with the thermometer at blood heat in an ice 
chest — would be nothing less than a new order of 
suicide, so I have brought a substitute, which I venture 
to hope, will meet with your approval; — lemonade.” 

Oh, you ^re a blessing,” cried Bea, with a joyful 
pounce on to the bundles. ‘‘ It will be so much nicer, 
and what splendid big lemons, and enough sugar to 
make a gallon.” 

A gallon won’t come amiss, I guess, people are 
ravenously thirsty such weather as this; why, I feel 
like I could drink a quart myself this very minute ; — 
where’s Kat?” asked Ralph, drawing another package 
from his pocket. 

“Here I am; what’s wanted?” answered Kat, putting 
her head out at the top of the window. 

“Here’s something that you are fond of — catch,” 
said Ralph, tossing the package, which Kat grasped as 
it flew by. “I looked all over town for some decent 
candy for this evening, and couldn’t find a thing except 
that, which I knew would suit Elat, and put her in a 
good humor.” 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


28 ^ 


“Butter-scotch cried Kat, with a shriek of delight. 
“I haven’t had any in the natural life of ten coons. 
What bliss ! Ralph you ’re a top ! ” 

“Thank you. I ’m getting along, I see ; for I suppose 
a top is a little higher than a trump, isn’t it? 

But Kat had disappeared, so Ralph leaned up lazily 
against the post, fanning with his big straw hat, while 
drinking in with dreamy delight the quiet beauty before 
and around him. How intensely quiet nature can be- 
come in the sunshine of a summer afternoon ! Even the 
birds in sheltering nooks among the shady leaves find 
greatest happiness in helping the solitude ; and save a 
light breeze, touching the tops of the trees, and dipping 
down to stir the cool grass, lying in deep shade, there 
is no evidence that nature’s pulse still answers to the 
quiet beating of her heart. The Bering home at a 
time like this, looked more like an old picture 
steeped in cool shadows, with glints of sunshine here 
and there, and one could almost imagine now, in looking 
at it, that the open windows, with glimpses of snowy 
curtains, the great front door with the cool, deep hall 
beyond, the shady, vine-covered porch, and the indolent 
figure on the steps, with dreamy, dark eyes, and hat idly 
dropped, were but witcheries of the artist’s brush and 
colors. 

Something entirely averse to the idea of a paintings 
namely, a moving figure, appeared at this moment, com- 


290 


SIX GIRLS. 


ing from the front door, and bearing a small waiter with a 
glass of cool lemonade. 

Here’s something to make your eyes shine !” cried 
a voice that made him start up from his reverie in a 
hurry and look delighted. 

^^Kat! Is it possible? For me? Who made it?” 

I did, to be sure, all alone by myself.” 

Where ’s the other glasj ? ” 

‘‘Other? Patience! won’t one glass do you?” 

“No, but wait; I’ll get it, and away he went, coming 
back in a moment with an empty glass, into which he 
poured half the cool refreshing contents. 

“There ! To be more social, you see. Now, mad- 
emoiselle, lets drink to health, happiness, and everlasting 
peace and friendship between us, from this moment 
henceforth. Shall we?” 

“ Yes,” said Kat, with her brightest smile ; so they 
clinked glasses and drank merrily in the shady porch ; 
then shook hands to strengthen the contract, and made 
mutual resolves to smoke the pipe of peace forever. 

Meantime Kittie, unconscious of the great reconcilia- 
tion just being sealed, was having a sorry time by herself 
out in the hot kitchen. The icing would n’t ice worth a 
cent, but persisted in being sloppy and unmanageable ; 
and the more she spatted and smoothed, the worse it 
looked ; and finally she called to Bea, in worn-out 
despair : 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


291 


‘‘I don^t see what in the world is the matter with 
it,” cried the discouraged icer, setting forth her work 
with a sigh of exhausted energy. Do you see what’s 
wrong? ” 

‘‘ You Ve iced it on the wrong side,” said Bea, smoth- 
ering her own disappointment, out of consideration for 
Kittie’s tired despair. You see the top always puffs 
and bakes out of shape, so the way to do is to ice the 
bottom, so it will look smooth and nice.” 

Yes, to be sure ; what a goose I was not to think 1 
I tried to make it look even by filling the dents up, 
and they ’re all perfect little puddles ; ” cried Kittie in 
heated disgust. ‘‘What shall we do, make another one? 
Though I ’d be afraid to try. I never made any kind 
but the very plainest and that would n’t do. 

“No, I had rather have this. Put it down cellar in 
the very coolest place, and I guess it will harden up all 
right,” advised Bea, smothering a little sigh of regretful 
anxiety, as she tried to give comfort to the discouraged 
cook. So Kittie carried it down cellar, and throughout 
the rest of the day made regular trips down to see if it 
was hardening any ; but it was n’t, and her spirits sank so 
low that the astonishing sight of Ralph and Kat, sworn 
enemies when last she saw them, coming slowly up from 
the pond under one umbrella and evidently on such ami- 
cable grounds, did not rouse her, except to a moment 
of amaze; after which, she sank back into a world of 


292 


SIX GIRLS. 


troubled dreams, where there seemed to be nothing but 
cakes, swimming about in puddles of icing, while a dread- 
ful penalty hung above her defenceless head, if the pud- 
dles did not congeal into ornamental coverings before a 
given time. 

‘‘ Oh, dear, oh I What can the matter be ?” sang Ralph, 
stopping at the kitchen window, just in time to see her 
coming from the cellar-way with a face bereft of all hope. 
‘‘What has happened?*’ 

“Oh, Ralph ! I don’t know what I shall do,” she 
cried, with desponding agony, and then sat down on the 
wood-box and burst into tears. 

“ Why, bless your poor little heart ! Tell me about it,” 
exclaimed Ralph, swinging himself into the window, and 
hurrying to turn comforter. 

“ The ca-ake is ruined,” sobbed Kittie, entirely given 
over to despair and grief. “ It ’s all slopped and soaked 
to pieces in the old icing — and I don’t want to tell Bea 
— and I don’t know what to do, either. I — I — fan — 
fanned it a whole hour to make it colder, and it did n’t 
do a bit of good, and — oh, dear me I ” 

“ Well, that is a calamity, to be sure,” said Ralphs 
feeling a masculine helplessness since the trouble lay 
within the domain of cookery. “ But then, never mind ; 
we ’ll drink lemonade, and let the cake go.” 

“ Yes, I ’d just as soon, but Bea — she ’ll be so disap- 
pointed, and I hate to tell her,” sobbed Kittie, wailing. 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


293 


But Bea is reasonable,” urged Ralph. ^^She will 
know you did your best, and ought to be ashamed if she 
says anything cross.” 

Oh, it is n’t that,” cried Kittie, hastily. She knows 
I tried, and she won’t say a word, but then she ’ll be so 
disappointed, because she wants everything nice for Miss 
Barnett, and — and, I hate to tell her.” 

“ Exactly,” said Ralph, much touched at this little 
evidence of sisterly consideration, and feeling a greater 
desire than ever to do something to help the cause 
along. “See here, Kittie,” he exclaimed suddenly, 
and Kittie looked up quickly, for there was something 
promising in the voice. “ Do you dry those eyes 
out in a hurry, and run out doors to get cool 
and cheerful, and don’t ask me any questions.” 

“But Ralph—” 

“ Go, I say, and do just as I tell you. Don’t give 
that cake another thought, but go and fix yourself as 
pretty as you can for this evening, and I promise you 
everything shall be all right.” 

“ Oh, you blessed boy,” cried Kittie, with a gasp of 
relief. 

“ Boy ! Don’t insult me ; remember I will vote this 
Fall.” 

“ To be sure ; I beg your pardon,” and Kittie began 
to laugh through her tears. She hadn’t the slightest idea 
what he could do to make matters all right, but then he 


294 


SIX GIRLS. 


had said he would, and that was enough. She never 
doubted but what he could do whatever he set his mind 
to. 

Just after it came time to light the parlors, it became 
evident to all that something was the matter with Kat. 
She did n’t say anything, but on coming in from a late 
row on the pond, and finding everything lighted, she gave 
a gasp, and stood perfectly still in the parlor door. 

‘‘ Well, what were you down to the pond this late 
for ? ” asked Bea, flitting about in her white dress, with 
the softest color in her cheeks, a knot of blush roses 
in her hair, and another in her belt. 

“I — I was cool — I mean I wanted to get cool,’’ 
answered Kat with a stammer, and her eyes going 
hurriedly from one' room to the other. 

‘‘What did you light up so early for?” 

“ I don’t call seven o’clock early — there goes the 
gate now.” 

Kat groaned, as if in deepest despair, then dashed up 
stairs, and cast herself into the first chair with a tragic air. 

“ I knew it ! I knew it ! oh, what a miserable wretch 
I am, and whatever will I do? I never never will be any- 
thing but a black sheep to the longest day that I live ? ” 
After which cheerful prophesy, she ran both hands over 
her hair by way of smoothing any stray locks, gave heir 
skirts a twist, and herself a general shake, and started 
slowly down stairs again, with a grimly resigned air. 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


295 


It was only the most informal of little evening com- 
pany, so every one came early, and in a little while the 
quiet evening air grew musical with merry voices and gay 
laughter, then became quieter, and was replaced by notes 
from the piano, or some one voice trilling out a popular 
song or a pretty ballad. Everything went flourish- 
ing ; to be sure, there were more ladies than gentle- 
men, which required much watching and managing on 
Bea’s part, that no lady should suffer a dearth of mascu- 
line attention. Once, Ralph was missing from the room 
for some little time, which worried her greatly, but when 
he came back, she noticed that he nodded and smiled to 
Kittie, which was unintelligible to her, but was readily 
understood by her sister, to mean that everything was 
right. Just as the young hostess had decided that it 
was time to serve refreshments, some one asked her to 
sing. 

I ? Oh, I never sing,” she said with a modest blush, 
and drawing back, while her heart began to flutter 
nervously. 

“I*m quite sure you do,” persisted the young lady; 
whereupon the request was strengthened by all voices; 
and conscious that it would be impolite to still refuse, 
Bea walked to the piano, with her fingers growing cold 
as ice, and a die-away feeling in her throat. It took a few 
minutes to spin up the stool and decide what to sing, then 
in a voice that would quaver, she began a little Scotch 


:296 


SIX GIRLS. 


song, and was just through the first verse when things 
began to look strange. Was it because she was so 
nervous, or was it growing dark? She played a few 
rambling chords, then she stopped and looked at the lamp 
with a chilly foreboding, and — it was going out! 

Somebody else had noticed it before she did, and now 
as she sat in blank, dazed mortification, some one 
crossed the room, and lifting the lamp, blew it out, 
saying with a careless laugh : 

Several adventurous bugs were burning themselves to 
death, so I have ended their, and our misery, by putting 
out what they were slowly killing, and now' while they are 
being dislodged, and the lamp relighted, shall we adjourn 
to the porch, ladies and gentlemen ? The moon is com- 
ing up gorgeously,’* 

Bea could have gone down on her knees in gratitude 
to him, and Kat, the terrible, actually threw him a kiss 
in the dark, before she rushed out to the kitchen, where 
Bea had carried the lamp. 

It ’s all my fault, every bit,” she cried remorsefully. 

I thought this morning, when I cleaned the lamps, that 
I would wait* until it got cooler to go up after the coal-oil, 
and then I forgot it, clean as a shingle, and I ’ll do 
anything under the sun if you ’ll forgive me.” 

‘‘Don’t talk,” said Bea sharply, too excited and 
nervous to say much. “Go, bring every lamp in the 
house, quick!” 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


297 


‘‘ Never mind,” exclaimed Kittie, coming hurriedly in, 
as Kat went off on a rush. Don’t feel bad, Bea, not a 
soul noticed it, and you were singing beautifully ; besides 
you just ought to look in the dining-room ; there ’s the 
most magnificent cake that you ever saw, and a freezer 
of delicious ice-cream ! ” 

Bea dropped the lamp top from her trembling fingers, 
and turned her face with incredulous relief and delight. 

‘‘ Oh, Kittie ! ” 

“ Yes, and I ’m going right out now to distribute plates 
and napkins, and let them eat out in the moonlight ; it’s 
nearly as light as day, so don’t worry another bit ; the 
other big lamp will burn over two hours, yet, and you can 
empty enough from the little ones into this to make it go, 
and everybody but Dr. Barnett thinks it was bugs. Only 
hurry and come out ; ” and away fluttered Kittie, with 
the memory of Bea’s brightened face, to provide the 
young guests with plates and expectations. 

So, when Bea replaced the lamp in the parlor, with its 
blaze high and bright, and came out on to the porch, she 
found the merriest party imaginable, and there were 
generous saucers of cream going round amid Oh’s,” 
and ‘‘ All’s ” of satisfaction, and Kat following after them 
wiih an immense cake, its top shining white as snow 
in the moonlight. Bea knew only too well who was the 
author of all this generosity, and she seized the first 
opportunity of giving Ralph’s hand a squeeze of inexpres- 


298 


SIX GIRLS. 


sible gratitude, to which he made answer by giving her a 
fraternal pat on the shoulder, as they stood in the shadow 
of the vine, and whispered slyly: 

‘^Barnett’s a trump, isn’t he? I never saw anything 
neater.” 

Bea thought so and was treasuring up a little speech of 
thanks to make him when the good-night moment should 
arrive, but she did n’t make it, for that moment turned 
out to be something so different from what she expected. 
It was this way. After having reduced the cake and 
lemonade to a state of bankruptcy, and made way with 
all the ice-cream, the young people strolled around the 
yard for a while in the moonlight, took rides in the 
Water-Rat across the pond, and then decided that it 
was time to go home, and began making their parting 
thanks accordingly ; so that in a few moments every one 
was gone but Dr. Barnett and Jiis sister ; and that sister, 
with feminine quickness, understood that this moment 
might be the very one her brother wanted, so she en- 
gaged Kittie and Kat in a lively conversation, and 
together they all went up stairs for her wrappings. 

‘‘It was so kind in you,” began Bea when she found 
that they were quite alone on the porch. “ I don’t know 
what I should have done, and it was so terribly morti- 
fying, but then — ” and there she came to a pause, for 
looking up, she met his eyes, wearing an expression, such 
as chased all further words from her lips, and made her 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


299 


forget entirely what it was that she was going to say 
next. 

‘‘ Don^t you suppose,” began the young doctor rather 
hurriedly, ‘‘ that it is very pleasant for me to know that 
I saved you any pain, and don’t you know that I wish I 
might feel that you would give me the right to do so 
always? don’t you, Beatrice?” 

‘‘Oh — I — don’t know;” stammered Bea, with a 
foolish little quaver to her voice, and dropping her face 
clean out of sight, yet making no resistance when she 
found her hands imprisoned. 

“Please look at me,” was the first request, in very ten- 
der tones. “ I need some encouragement. Won’t you 
give me a little? If you love me ever so little, dear, 
won’t you put your hand in mine again?” 

Bea dropped her head still lower, all in a tremor 
of happy, shy delight, and looked at the hand which 
he had released, and was waiting to claim from her. 
Should she give it? She knew she would, even while 
she hesitated, for didn’t she love him from the top 
to the bottom of her devoted little heart? Yes, of 
course she did. And didn’t she foolishly think that 
the loveliest music in heaven could never be more 
delightful to listen to than his voice asking for her 
love? To be sure she did. Oh, it’s wonderful how 
such times affect us all ! 

“I’m waiting, Beatrice,” said Dr. Walter, with a very 


300 


SIX GIRLS. 


proper degree of beseeching impatience. Don’t you 
love me any, darling?” 

Up came her head with a little flash of courage, giving 
him one glance of the shy, happy eyes, then down it 
went again, as she held out her hand, and felt it covered 
with an eager firmness, while something was said close to 
her rosy ear that did well enough for her to hear, but 
cannot be told to you. 

It is wonderful how much time Miss Lottie managed 
to consume in putting on a single wrap — a fleecy cover- 
ing over her head ; but she realized the importance of 
keeping out of the way a while, so loitered and chatted 
and admired the moon-lit view from the windows, and 
finally started slowly down stairs, fervently hoping that 
the important words had been spoken. 

They evidently had, for both parties looked so happy, 
and when the doctor bade the twins good night, it really 
seemed as though he would shake their hands off, in the 
excess of some feeling that possessed him ; and there is 
no mistake about it, he certainly kissed Bea in the 
shadow of the vines, as he said to her in parting : 

“To-morrow, I am coming to see your mother, and 
then I hope to put my seal on this little hand that you 
have given to me.” 

At first, Bea did not know whether to tell the girls or 
not, but then, of course they knew, for after they were 
alone, what unheard-of capers they did go through with, 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


501 


such winks, and sighs, and groans, and tragic acting. So 
Bea sat over in the shadow where they could n’t see her 
face, and said with a laugh; 

^‘Stop your nonsense, if you want me to tell you 
about it.” 

“Tell!” echoed Kat. “As if we didn’t know, and 
had n’t seen for months. I ’ve been nearly dead to 
tease, ’cause you ’re such a good subject, but then mama 
said we shouldn’t. Engaged 1 Oh, here’s a go ! ” 

“What did you both say?” asked Kittie, in romantic 
interest, and feeling as though a great hole had been 
made in the family, with Bea set apart from them in 
some way. 

“Not much,” answered Bea, with a little smile to think 
how quickly it had all been done. “ I hear voices at the 
gate; it’s mama and Mr. Dane; I guess I’ll go down 
and meet her;” so off she went, leaving the twins to 
laugh and mourn over the event. 

Dr. Barnett came the next day, and he and Mrs. Der- 
ing talked in the sitting-room together for a long time. 
Then Bea was sent for, and after a while, when she came 
out with a quiet, almost sad happiness in her face, she 
wore a rim of gold on her left hand, and for a long time 
she sat alone in her room, thinking much, shedding a few 
tears, and saying a little prayer, as though she felt that 
she stood on the threshold of something that would re- 
quire help, and that was hard for her to realize. 


ao2 


SIX GIRLS. 


After this, the summer days came and went, with little 
to disturb the quiet life at the Bering’s. The heat was 
so intense that amusements of all kinds were laid aside, 
just as little work done as possible, and the greater por- 
tion of the long days spent out on the old roof, where it 
was constantly shady. So nothing further happened until 
the time came for Ralph to return to home and studies. 
The prospect of such an event drove despair into the 
hearts of the girls and made them extensively rebellious. 
Even Kat mourned and felt a great deal more than she 
showed, for with all pretensions to dislike, would it have 
been possible to have had Ralph Tremayne there for six 
months, and not like him? 

“ I ’ll come back,” he would say over and over again, 
as though in some way, he gained comfort himself from 
the assertion. In two years I ’ll be through with my 
studies, and my very first trip will be here and then — ” 
but somehow, he never finished, but would look thought- 
ful for a little while, as though the move after theriy was 
going to be a very important one. 

*‘I believe you ’re glad to go,” Kittie would say to him 
when he would often be telling of what he was going to 
work for and accomplish. ‘‘You’ll go back to Boston, 
and study, and make yourself a great lawyer, and you ’ll 
see such elegant ladies in society there, that you will 
forget all about this little country town, and these little 
country girls.” 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


303 


Kittie/* Ralph would exclaim in return, as though 
this little doubt of his faithfulness hurt him, “ you know 
you don’t mean it, and if you knew what this summer 
has been to me, you never would say so.” 

Why don’t you tell us, then? ” asked Kat, who hap- 
pened to overhear this remark one day. 

Perhaps I will some time, if I find that you are glad 
to see me when 1 come back,” answered Ralph with a 
mysterious smile. 

‘‘Can you ever doubt that ?” asked Bea. “After the 
blessing and comfort that you have been to us all? I 
don’t know what we ever will do without you, Ralph; it 
will be so lonesome.” 

“Why, you ought not to care,” said Ralph with a 
laugh, and touching the hand that wore the gold ring, 
with a significant gesture. “ My place was taken long 
ago in your fickle heart, mademoiselle.” 

It did not really seem as though they were going to 
lose him until September came, and the days crept 
around, till the one came when a trunk stood packed in 
the hall, the front room up stairs looked forsaken, and 
Ralph was really going next morning. 

Right after dinner, Kat took her book and went off to 
the farthest corner of the back-yard, where a gigantic 
apple-tree stood, with a magnificent seat of curled 
branches up in its centre, into which, Kat found her way, 
with some speedy climbing, and then sat down and 


304 


SIX GIRLS. 


looked thoughtfully at nothing for nearly half an hour. 
Yes, she did look very thoughtful, and after a while, she 
opened her book, but did not read much, for something 
kept coming between her and the leaves, and two or 
three times she might have been seen to slide her hand 
across her eyes, and wink pretty fast, which plainly 
indicated that something must be the matter. She 
never could have told afterwards what made her stay 
there all the afternoon, but stay she did, and never 
came down until the sun had commenced to throw 
slanting shadows across the grass. On the way up 
to the house, she walked slowly, and appeared to be 
holding some internal communion or argument with 
herself, and was seen to shake herself rather fiercely 
before she went in. 

‘‘Well, where in the world have you been was the 
remark that greeted her, as she appeared in the sitting- 
room door ; and the speaker was Bea, who turned from 
the window with wet eyes. 

“Been? Up in the big tree out below the pond.*' 

“Why I thought you had gone up town,** exclaimed 
Kittie, who was crying on the piano-stool, like one 
bereft. “ Ralph *s gone.** 

“Gone r* echoed Kat, slowly. 

“Yes, gone,’* repeated Bea. “He found that he 
could make connections right through by taking this 
afternoon’s train, and he raced all around town an hour 


SEVERAL THINGS. 


305 


before train -time, to find you. Kittie said you were 
going after dinner.” 

‘‘Yes, but I changed my mind,” said Kat slowly, then 
turned and went out. Gone, and with no good-bye to 
her ! She wondered a little to see how much the thought 
hurt her. Ralph’s old straw hat, with its broad band of 
blue ribbon, just as he used to wear it around the yard, 
hung on the rack. She took it down with a queer little 
feeling in her throat, and slapped it on to her head, then 
went out into the yard again. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


AT THE OPERA. 

The sun came warmly in at the great west window 
of the picture gallery, and showed Olive sitting before a 
tall frame, and working busily at the sketch that lay in her 
lap. Very near to her, lay Jean, on a luxurious little 
divan, with an open book in her hands, from which she 
read a little, now and then, and watching her sister in 
the meantime. It was very still, for when Olive was 
at work she was always too absorbed to think of aught 
else, and objected to being talked to, so the deep 
silence lay unbroken, and Jean satisfied herself with being 
allowed to watch to her heart’s content. 

At last Olive raised her head with a sigh, partly of 
fatigue, and partly of blissful content, and after taking a 
professional squint at her subject and her copy, passed it 
over to Jean with the remark : 


AT THE OPERA. 


307 


There, how do you like that, Jean? Does his nose 
look right?” 

‘‘Just beautiful ! ” cried Jean with enthusiasm. “How 
splendidly you do it, Olive. He looks as if he was going 
to speak. It must be so nice to be an artist ; you ’ll be 
a great one, some day, won’t you ? ” 

“ I want to be,” answered Olive, who had lately learned 
that nothing so threw Jean into raptures, as to be 
appealed to, and confided in. “After I learn to draw 
heads just as nicely as possible, I am going to sketch 
yours and Ernestine’s for mama.” 

“Are you really?” exclaimed Jean in delight, “and 
like that one?” 

“ Yes, like this,” said Olive, looking at her sketch, 
which was a copy of a magnificent head of Demosthenes, 
cast in bas-relief against black velvet. “ Don’t you think 
she will like it?” 

“Oh, she’ll just be too happy ! ” cried Jean, slipping 
from her lounge, and limping over to Olive with her 
cane. “I want to talk a little while now, will you, 
Olive?” 

The young artist cast a hasty regretful look at her 
drawing, and was on the point of putting off the little 
talk, for her fingers fairly trembled to go on with her 
work, and catch with her pencil the peculiar life- like ex- 
pression about the mouth of the great orator ; but the 
temptation was thrust aside, and the next moment, Jean 


SIX GIRLS. 


m 

was sitting in her lap, with the contented air of one who 
expects no rebuffs or unreturned caresses. 

‘‘I Ve been watching you so long,” she began, touch- 
ing with loving fingers, the long, heavy braid of beautiful 
hair, that had fallen over Olive’s shoulder, “and I 
just wanted to tell you how different you look from the 
way you used to, you know.” 

“ Yes,” answered Olive, who had grown used to these 
loving bursts of admiration from the observing little 
girl. 

“I used to think,” continued Jean, “ that you was the 
most unhappy girl I ever saw, and it made me feel so 
sorry, ’cause I thought it must be somebody’s fault, and 
then I wanted to kiss you, or something, but you always 
looked so, I did n’t know whether you ’d like it or not^ 
and so I never did.” 

“ But I would have been glad,” said Olive, who could 
remember very well the many times she had frozen 
the little girl’s loving advances. 

“ I ’ll tell you why I was so unhappy, Jeanie ; I 
thought DO body loved me, and that I was in the way.’^ 

“ Why, Olive ! Olive ! ” cried Jean in greatest amaze* 
“How could you think so; who made you?” 

“ I made myself,” said Olive. “ I was so cross, that I 
made you all stay away from me, and then I thought it 
was because no one cared for me, because I was so 
ugly.” 


AT THE OPERA. 


309 


‘‘You wasn’t pretty then,” was Jean’s honest remark. 

But you are now, really, and so splendid looking some 
way. You have n’t got rosy cheeks like Miss Foster, nor 
yellow hair like Ernestine, but somehow I love to look 
at you, and so does Cousin Roger, ’cause sometimes 
when you are drawing, he just looks right straight at you 
all the whole time.” 

‘‘Does he?” laughed Olive, and then revealed the 
utter want of romance in her nature, by never giving 
the complimentary fact another thought. “ I ’ll tell 
you something, Jean, if you ’ll not repeat it.” 

“ Oh, no, Olive, never ! ” 

“Well, I’m drawing Cousin Roger’s head.’* 

^‘You are, and he don’t know it?” 

“No, I take good looks when he don’t see, then go 
and draw awhile ; it ’s good practise, and he has such 
a strong, clear face, and splendid shaped head, that I 
have to work hard to make my picture good, and 
I find it is helping me a great deal,” said Olive, with 
never a thought of doing a thing that might be termed 
romantic. 

“ How nice, and may I see it?” 

“Yes, when it is done.” 

“ And may / see it? ” inquired a new voice, that made 
them both start and turn, to see Roger Congreve coming 
down the gallery. 

“ Did you hear?” asked Olive, looking a little vexed ; 


310 


SIX GIRLS. 


and Jean opened her mouth to say something, then 
shut it in a hu ry. 

^‘No, I didn't, except the last two sentences; but 
from the way you both look, I think it must be some- 
thing that I ought to hear," answered the gentleman, 
sitting down on Jean’s divan with a laugh. 

“Tell him," whispered Jean, and as Olive looked up, 
and saw his head with gleams of sunshine falling across 
it, she realized the advantage of having it to look at 
steadily, and how grand his forehead was. 

“Yes, I’d just as soon. tell you as not," she said 
frankly. “ I ’ve been taking a sketch of your head." 

“ Have you indeed," he exclaimed, with a sudden 
light in his face that Olive could not understand, if 
indeed, she thought anything about it. 

“ Yes, it makes a splendid study, but I have n’t made 
much progress, because I ’ve had so few chances." 

“ Why did you do it on the sly ? " he asked, hoping to 
detect a little confusion in her answer, such as might in- 
dicate a little deeper interest than the mere study ; but 
not a bit of it ; she answered readily enough : 

“ I thought you might consider it a bore to sit still, 
doing nothing, just for the sake of being copied, so 
I never ,said anything about it, but studied by piece- 
meal." 

“ On the contrary, believe me, nothing would be 
greater bliss than to sit still doing nothing, by the hour. 


AT THE OPERA. 


311 


for the sake of being copied — by you/' said Roger 
with an unmistakable accent. 

It 's very kind of you, I am sure/' replied Olive, 
on whom all such things were thrown away ; as indeed he 
had found out long ago, being a little nettled at the 
discovery. Not that he was given such, to any extreme, 
but then he was a society man, born and bred, with all of 
society’s pleasing little airs, which might have made him 
a society fool, if he had not also possessed too much 
manhood and good common sense. Between his hand- 
some self, and it being known that he was ‘‘old Con- 
greve’s heir,” it ’s a never ending wonder that he was n’t 
spoiled ; but he bad kept clear headed, and also clear 
hearted so far, and had come to find out that there were 
but few women who were not susceptible to flattery, and 
who would not drop into a harmless flirtation with little 
invitation. Therefore, when Olive came, and never 
seemed to regard him as any extraordinary being, he 
decided to make her ; so after trying indifference, equal 
to her own awhile, he was somewhat amazed to find that 
his was feigned, and hers was too genuine to be compli- 
mentary ; after which he tried the attentive, which rarely 
fails to bring a girl around, and was astonished beyond 
measure, to find that it was in vain. To be sure, Olive 
accepted his flowers, sometimes wearing a bud or two in 
her hair, and seemed to think it very kind in him to 
remember her in that way. And she went riding day 


312 


SIX GIRLS. 


after day with him, with the most hearty enjoyment, for 
did she not see the most magnificent scenery from the 
mountain roads, round which they cantered in the lovely 
days? And they frequently spent evenings together, 
when at her request he would read aloud from books she 
might name, and then they would discuss them, when he 
would find that hers was no ordinary school -girlish mind, 
that could be bent according to another’s ideas. And so, 
at last, he came to feel a genuine desire to win some 
feeling from her, since she was rousing so much in him ; 
but the genuine desire seemed as vain as the former idle 
one, for while Olive undoubtedly enjoyed his society, 
since he assisted her in discovering the best sketching 
points, and was an able conversationalist in what he had 
read and seen; there was nothing beyond it, and she 
would have enjoyed the same, just as well, in any 
one else. Most any girl but Olive, would have come to 
understand and appreciate, the evident preference he 
at last professed for her society, above that of the 
Staunton belles ; and most any girl would have been 
flattered by the attentions which now bore sincerity 
in their face ; but to Olive they seemed only courtesies 
paid to her as a guest, for which she was grateful, and 
gave no extra thought. She was wrapped too deeply in 
her art to have any thought of lovers, besides she was not 
at all romantic ; all her cravings for affection were satis- 
fied in the home circle, and the deeper fountains of 


AT THE OPERA. 


313 


her heart, that, once reached, would be a well-spring 
of deathless unchanged devotion, lay deeply buried now. 
So it was that Roger Congreve had met the first woman 
whom he could not attract in some way, who won from 
him Ihe strongest feelings, and gave him nothing in return 
but polite friendliness ; and that she should be nothing 
but a seventeen year old girl, was something rather hu- 
miliating. When the study on the head began, as it did 
the next day, it was both a pleasure and almost a pain to 
him to feel that he might as well have been a piece of 
statuary as for all the attention she gave him, aside from 
the long careful looks her thoughtful eyes bestowed 
on some particular curve to his nose, or expression about 
his mouthy But then it gave him plenty of time to study 
the quiet face, with its clear colorlessness, the lowered 
eyelids with curling lashes, the nose, that was purely 
aristocratic in its fine outline, and the wavy sweep of 
brown hair from the high, white brow. The study was 
alwa3’S a pleasure to him, and made ten times stronger 
his resolve to win some feeling and expression thereof 
from her. 

‘‘Are you sleepy?*’ Olive asked once, when he had 
fallen into a reverie, and was regarding her with eyes 
dreamily tender. “ I ’m ready for your eyes now, and 
that expression will never do. I ’ve put your head and 
face in an expression of strong defiance, and those eyes 
would ruin it. Look real angry for a minute, and let me 


314 


SIX GIRLS. 


catch the expression; — no, not that way, it’s too 
fierce ; but just steady and earnest, as though you 
were determined to do something, whether or no.” 

‘‘ Very well ; look at me now,” he said, turning his 
eyes on her with a flash of determination, such as set 
her pencil to work in a hurry. ‘‘I want to tell you that 
I have made up my mind to do a certain thing, which 
I will tell you about when accomplished.” 

She was too busy replacing that look on paper to 
heed the gracious promise ; and he had the question- 
able pleasure of knowing that he was entirely for- 
gotten for the next few minutes, save in the capacity 
of a model, and that thought accomplished what Olive 
wanted, for it kept that look of roused defiance in his 
eyes. 

Occasionally old Mr. Congreve would come into the 
gallery and take a look at the work, on which he would 
pass some characteristic comment, and then depart, 
taking jean with him, and saying to her with a chuckle, 
that sounded like intense satisfaction : 

‘‘Come along with me, Jeanie, and lets leave the 
young folks alone with their drawing. I guess they can 
manage it better alone;” and Jean would go regretfully, 
and with an innocent wondering how her staying would 
make any difference. 

One evening, towards the latter part of September, 
Roger came up from the city, and meeting Olive on the 


AT THE OPERA. 


315 


lawn, drew two tickets from his pocket, and threw them 
into her lap. 

“ There ! The first opera of the season, and pretty 
early for that, too ! but I hear they are rather good, and 
they give ‘ Bohemian Girl * to-night, so I bought tickets. 
Shall we go?’^ 

Yes, it was kind of you. I should like to hear it 
very much,” answered Olive with a pleased smile. “Do 
you know, I never heard an opera in my life.” 

“Is it possible? ” in intense surprise. “Why, we will 
go every night they are here, if you say so.” 

“ Oh, no,” with an air of reproof. “ That would be 
very nice, but too extravagant. I know money is noth- 
ing to you, but then it would n’t seem right to spend so 
much for mere pleasure when there are so many poor.” 

He looked at her in surprise for a moment, but was 
too modest to tell that he gave twice as much to worthy 
poor as he ever gave to personal pleasure ; so the sub« 
ject dropped, and they were silent until Olive asked, 
with a sudden recollection of how she had frequently 
heard him describe ladies’ toilets : 

“ Do they — I will have to ask you because there is no 
one else — but do the ladies dress much at opera, 
here ? ” 

“Just as they please. It is not so popular as for- 
merly. Street dress is mostly worn now.” 

“ Well, I don’t know as it makes any difference, for 


316 


SIX GIRLS. 


I Ve got just so much to dress in, and would have to 
wear it anyhow,*’ said Olive, with a composed laugh, 
which indicated how little she cared for what was 
popular aside from a polite desire to be becomingly 
attired in the eyes of her escort. 

Will you wear some flowers if I will send them up 
to you?” 

‘‘Yes, thank you.” 

“ Why do you always thank me for every little thing as 
if we were perfect strangers? ” he exclaimed, with a little 
impatience, and a sort of vague feeling that if she realized 
or cared for the devotion accompan)nng the acts, she 
would accept them more as a matter of course. 

“Why should I not thank you?” with an air of sur- 
prise. “Is it any reason that I should not be polite 
since we are well acquainted ? ” 

“ No, to be sure not,” with a slight laugh ; “but, then 
— what flowers do you prefer?” 

“ Make your own selection.” 

“I shall choose white then. Are you going in?” 

“ Yes j this is Jean’s day to go to the doctor’s, and I 
promised to go with her,” and with a little nod, she 
walked off and left him where he had thrown himself on 
the grass at her feet. 

That night, many a glass was turned towards their box, 
for Roger Congreve was too eligible not to be a perfect 
magnet of interest, and any lady that he might choose to 


AT THE OPERA. 


317 


show a slight preference for, became, at once, a target for 
glances and comments ; so, for a while, Olive was con- 
scious of a dazzling battery of eyes and glasses ; but 
Roger noticed, with some wonder, that the fact did not 
seem to disturb her more than as though it had been the 
commonest occurrence in her life. She looked exceed- 
ingly well to-night, dressed entirely in black, with lillies- 
of-the-valley in her hair, and fastened in the lace at her 
throat, while the pleasing excitement brought a bright 
flash into her eyes, and more color than usual into the 
lips that clearly showed their curved outline. 

The evening’s amusement began, and progressed 
pleasurably through the first act, to which Olive listened 
attentively, saying with a little sigh of regret when the 
curtain fell : 

‘‘ How lovely it all is ! Ernestine always wanted to go 
on the stage! It must be delightful if one can?” 

** Delightful, possibly ; but a life of drudgery until one 
has worked to the top, and even then, there are hard- 
ships,” Roger answered, noting how a look of sadness 
chased the gay smile from her lips when she spoke of 
the absent sister. Somehow, the place seemed replete 
with memories of Ernestine ; the music which she had 
often played, the glitter of wealth and fashion that she 
always loved and longed for, the very atmosphere of 
gayety and excitement, such as she had always craved to 
draw breath in, seemed to recall her now, as Olive, car- 


318 


SIX GIRLS. 


ing so little for it, sat in its midst, and lost in memory. 
Roger regretted that any sadness should have obtruded 
itself, and was relieved to see, that when the curtain rose 
on the second act, that Olive soon became absorbed in 
the picturesque gypsy scene and lovely music. The 
robbery of Florestein was being committed with the 
usual success of brilliancy, and the gipsies were taking 
French leave, when the figure of a woman enters, drops 
her cloak, and — Roger sees no more. He hears a sud- 
den painful gasp at his side, and turns to see Olive, 
whiter than her lilies, rising from her seat slowly, as if 
faint. 

Olive,’* he exclaimed, hastily drawing the curtain 
between them and the audience, but she put out her 
hand, and then sank back in her chair, too weak to 
stand, for the first time in her life, : 

Ernestine ! ** she said, huskily. It is Ernestine ! ** 

In incredulous amaze, he looked back at the stage, 
just as the queen was leading Florestein off, and he sees 
a frail-looking figure heaped in gaudy toggery, that looks 
as though it would drag her down with its weight ; and, 
above it, is a pale flower-like face, with great dark, 
weary-looking eyes, and a heavy coronet of yellow hair 
twisted with tinsel and gauze. 

‘‘ How can I go to her? ** Olive is saying with intense 
eagerness, and leaving her seat with a new strength. 
‘‘Tell me quick, for I must go at once — tell me, quick.** 


AT THE OPERA. 


319 


‘'It will do no good/' said Roger, laying a detaining 
hand on her arm. " Listen to me a moment, Olive," — 
as she threw it off in wild impatience. "They would 
not admit us behind the scenes, and besides, do you not 
see how frail and weak she looks? The shock would 
unfit her for the rest of the performance and — " 

" What do I care for that ? She shall leave them at 
once. I will go to her. I ’ll go alone, if you will not go 
with me," cried Olive with glowing eyes and trembling 
lips, and moving towards the door. 

" But she dare not leave, and they would not allow 
you to see her," said Roger earnestly. " Only wait until 
the performance is over, and we will be at the stage en- 
trance to meet her as she comes out. It will be best so ; 
believe me, and trust in my interest, that is doubly deep 
for your sake." 

Olive hesitated, but reason conquered, and she came 
trembling back to her seat, saying in an excited whisper : 

" I cannot look at her again ; I shall certainly betray 
myself if I do. Oh, how deathly she looks ! I can- 
not bear it ! ’’ 

Roger did not doubt her self-control, until the gypsy 
queen appeared from her tent to disturb the love-scene 
of Thaddeus and Arline ; and then, as Olive started 
forward and leaned against the box-rail, with parted, 
colorless lips, he certainly thought the name hovering on 
them would escape. But it did not. She pressed her 


320 


SIX GIRLS. 


hands tightly together and looked down, with such glit- 
tering eyes that it is a wonder their intense gaze did not 
make itself felt, and draw an answering look from the 
pale, worn queen, who, it was very evident, was making 
every particle of her strength work, to carry her through 
her part. Roger noticed, with an excitement almost 
equal to Olive’s, that as she advanced to unite the lovers’ 
hands, that she cleared her throat huskily and grew even 
yet paler in the tent-lights, and that twice she opened 
her lips before any sound crossed them. The next 
moment Olive had sprung to her feet, as with the 
first words: — 

“Hand to hand, and heart to heart — ’* 

The voice ceased, a thin stream of blood crossed the 
queen’s white lips and the curtain was rung down in a 
hurry, as she fell back into the gypsy’s arms and was 
carried off. 

** This way, give me your arm,” said Roger, pausing to 
say nothing else as they left the box and made their way 
through the dim little hall to the stage door. It was 
locked, and the most imperative and repeated knocks, 
failed to bring any response ; and pitying the trembling 
eagerness that made Olive cling to his arm, he turned 
back, making all possible haste through the auditorium. 
The greater part of the audience still kept their seats to 
hear what would follow, but several were leaving, so that 
their hurrying through was hardly noticed, though neither 


AT THE OPERA. 


321 


gave it a thought. Just as they turned into the alley- 
way, from which the stage entrance led, a hack was seen 
to drive hurriedly from the door, and Olive’s trembling 
strength almost forsook her, as she gasped out — 

“ Tint is she — they are taking her away, — and we do 
not know where ! ** 

But it only took a moment to find where, to call 
another hack, help Olive in, to shout : “To the Vir- 
ginia ! ” and then to be rattled off, through the darkness, 
in frantic haste ; as cabby realized, from the excited 
order, that greatest speed was wanted. 

Olive spoke no word through that drive, but the mo- 
ment the hack stopped before the hotel, she sprang from 
it, and rushed into the house, appealing eagerly to the 
first one met — 

“Where is she — the lady they have just brought 
in?” 

“ The actress? Miss Clare? Third floor, but I don’t 
know the number.” 

Olive turned, to see Roger coming in with a tall, 
kindly faced man, who hurried up^ stairs, while Roger 
said to her : 

“ It is the doctor, we will follow him ; ” and together 
they went up, through the dim halls, and climbing the 
steep stairs, until they saw him enter a door, around 
which several curious persons stood, and then Roger 
paused, saying with decision: 


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SIX GIRLS. 


** You risk her life if you go in now, when she is in 
such a condition ; the shock might bring on another 
hemorrhage.” 

‘‘I will wait,” said Olive, beginning to feel the stern 
necessity of rigid self-control. ‘‘ But cannot you go in, 
and ask the doctor how she is, and ask him how long 
before I can see her.^^ ” 

“ I will try, wait here ; ” and Olive waited, while 
he went to the door, and tapped. She saw that he was 
refused admittance ; but that in a few moments the 
doctor came out, and talked with him, after which they 
walked down to where she stood. 

Dr. Pierce, Olive ; and I have told him a few of the 
sad facts of the case,” was Roger’s hurried introduction 
and explanation. 

‘‘And can I see her?” asked Olive, with trembling 
eagerness. 

“ I think not, but I am sorry,” was the kindly answer. 
“ The hemorrhage was not very severe, but she is perfectly 
prostrated with overwork and excitement, so that I would 
dread the effect of any shock. Besides I have given her 
an opiate, from which she may not wake for hours, if it 
has the desired effect.” 

“But may I not see her when she gets to sleep?” 
pleaded Olive, tremulously. “ I will be very quiet 
indeed.” 

“ Yes, you may ; I will call you,” answered the doctor. 


AT THE OPERA. 


323 


and then some of the bystanders brought Olive a chair, 
and she dropped into it, and leaning her head against the 
door casing, waited, hardly noticing that through the hour 
that followed, Roger Congreve stood close by her side 
and studied the pale, anxious face, while pondering the 
revelation made to him that evening. He had almost 
decided that she had no heart, simply because it had not 
responded to his; but had she not? 

“You may come now,” whispered an attendant, open- 
ing the door ; and with her heart bounding so that she 
could scarcely stand, Olive went in slowly, and holding 
her breath as she drew near the bed whereon lay the 
motionless figure. ^Oh, could it be Ernestine? She stood 
and looked, with eyes blinded by hot tears, and once 
ventured to touch one of the thin waxen-like hands lying 
on the coverlid. Did it seem possible ? Light-heai ted, 
beautiful Ernestine Dering, and this white, shadowy, 
motionless being, one and the same ? The face, as seen 
in the glare of lights, and under its gaudy trappings, was 
a picture of health, compared to what it was now, lying 
on the small, hard pillow, with the golden hair pushed 
straight back, and the face as pallid as marble, with sunken 
eyes, and pinched, white lips. Olive stood and looked 
for several moments, with the sobs swelling in her throat ; 
tlien she knelt down beside the bed, and hid her face in 
the coverings, and no one disturbed her ; but with 
Ernestine’s first move she drew back, and out of sight 


324 


SIX GIRLS. 


across the room, which was needless, for the sleeper only 
turned her head, and then sank into that death-like still- 
ness again. 

Has she been ill long?” asked Olive of the single 
woman who still remained in the room. ‘‘ Do you know 
anything about her?” 

Oh, yes, miss. I am Madame T , the prima 

donna’s maid, and I helped dress Miss Clare to-night,” 
answered the quiet-faced woman, who was nearly dead 
with curiosity, but stood in some awe of the tall, 
strange young lady. “ She has not been strong any of 
the time since she ’s been with us ; but yesterday^ 
Miss Downs took sick, and Mr. ^ Hurst, he ’s the 
manager, put Miss Clare in her place, and she ’s 
studied and sung every minute since, to be ready for 
to-night; and I thought when I dressed her, that she 
looked more like going into her coffin, than on the 
stage in all that toggery. She needs proper good care 
now, or she ’ll be like to die ; — might you be a — 
friend, miss?” 

‘^Yes; and I shall remove her from here as soon 
as she is able. What has she in the way of clothes, 
and where are they ? ” 

‘‘ Laws I miss, not much, I guess, only that little trunk 
there,” answered the woman, pointing to what might 
have been a good sized band-box, that stood in the 
corner, and which, in other days would hardly have held 


AT THE OPERA. 


325 


Ernestine’s sashes, ribbons and trinkets, let alone the 
smallest corner of her wardrobe. 

I am going,” said Roger, tiptoeing carefully to Olive’s 
side. “ It is past eleven, and the carriage will have come 
for us and gone back, and Uncle Ridley will be alarmed. 

I shall return immediately, and is there anything you 
want brought?” 

Yes,” whispered Olive. Pillows, eight or ten of 
them, wine, and my blue wrapper ; Jean will be asleep ; 
Bettine will get it for you; — that is all, I think;” and 
he went carefully away, to bear the startling news out 
to Congreve Hall ; and Olive was left to her lonely 
vigil, for the troupe arrived presently from the theatre, 

and the maid was obliged to attend to Madame T . 

Most of the performers had rooms on the third floor, 
and after a loiter down stairs, came up noisily, 
singing and chatting right by the sick-room, and Olive 
was horrified to hear that they stopped next door, 
from which place the merriment continued to flow 
forth unceasing. Did they not know that the sick 
girl lay next door, or at least that she was in the 
house? Olive stood it as long as she could, then 
sprang to her feet, and in a moment had tapped at 
the next door. 

The sounds ceased for a moment, then some one threw 
it open, and the light flashed on her pale, indignant face 
and flashing eyes, with the wilted lilies at her throat, and 


326 


SIX GIRLS. 


the unmistakable air of ^ woman born to command/* in 
her erect head, and clear, indignant glance. 

“ Are you not aware,” — she had no time to couch her 
language in pleasing terms, — ‘‘ Are you not aware that a 
lady lies at the point of death in the next room?” 

The four men looked at the apparition in silent amaze 
for a moment, then one of them said, with an unmistak- 
able hiccough and a silly smile : 

‘‘ You don’t say so ! hie, come in, an’ tell us all about it.’*^ 
Shut up, Bunce ! can’t you see it ’s a lady? ” retorted 
he, who sheepishly held the door. “I’m — I’m sorry, 
mam,” he continued, with a bow to Olive. “I — we — 
forgot ; I hope we ’ve not disturbed her much ; there 
shall be no more noise, I promise you.” 

Olive disappeared, and returned, to Ernestine, her heart 
swelling with furious indignation. If she had not been 

there, would the maid have gone to Madame T , and 

would the sick girl have been left alone in that death-like 
stupor? It seemed too heartlessly cruel to be true; 
Olive could not understand it. 

Roger Congreve returned just before twelve, and found 
Olive sitting alone by the sleeper, and his wrath was fully 
equal to hers. 

“ But they all know you are with her,” he said, “and 
there are all manner of curious conjectures floating round. 
Here are pillows, and wine, and I have brought Bettine 
back with me.” 


AT THE OPERA. 


327 


“ Oh, I am so glad,” said Olive, with a sigh of relief. 

I ' 

I have been pondering what I would do if she should 
wake up. What did Uncle Ridley say?” 

*‘ Say? Why, it was all I could do to keep him from 
coming here right away, and I left him trying to comfort 
Jean, who was nearly in a spasm of joy. She was awake 
and insisted on knowing why you did not come ; other- 
wise I should not have told her to-night. Here, Bettine, 
bring one of those largest pillows.” 

Bettine came forward from where she stood near the 
door, bringing a large, soft pillow, very unlike the little 
hard one on which Ernestine’s head rested ; and as Olive 
carefully lifted the sleeper’s head, they were exchanged, 
without disturbing the heavy stupefied slumber. 

‘‘ I think the manager will be up here in a moment,” 
said Roger, when Olive had taken her seat and Bettine had 
retreated to the comer, wiping her eyes on the rough little 
pillow-case ; and even as he spoke, there came steps in 
the hall and a slight tap at the door, and Bettine admitted 
the doctor, followed by a tall, surly- faced man, who 
looked fiercely around the room, and scowled at Olive, 
who took her seat by the bed, with an instinctive feeling 
that the unconscious sleeper might need her protection. 

You see for yourself,” said the doctor, stepping to the 
bed with the stranger, after having bowed to Olive and 
Roger. She is alive, and really doing better than 
I expected ; but a slight turn may be her instant death, 


328 


SIX GIRLS. 


or she may live several months yet with perfect rest and 
•comfort. She can never be of further use to you, for her 
last note had been sung, and her last act given. 

The manager scowled down at the death-like sleeper. 

Nevertheless, I have a claim on her. I paid her 
fifty dollars in advance to buy necessary stage-wardrobe,’’ 
he said, with a heartless coolness. “ 1 never was such a 
fool before, but she had a fine voice and good stage air, 
and I thought she’d last.” 

Almost before he finished speaking, Olive had leaped 
to her feet with flashing eyes and quivering white lips, 
but before she could speak, Roger’s quiet voice inter- 
rupted : 

Will you step this way, sir, and make out your bill 
against the young lady? I am quite ready to cancel all 
or any demands.” 

The manager turned and looked at him for a moment, 
in silence, then crossed the room with a shrug of his 
shoulders, and took the pencil held out to him, also the 
little page of blanks. 

Sign her release, while I make out your check,” said 
Ropier, drawing his bank book from his pocket, and 
hastily filling a page, while the manager slowly scrawled 
a few words on the blank, attached his name, and passed 
it over, receiving the check in exchange. 

‘‘ It ’s not half what I ought to receive,” he said, 
with surly grimace. Here I ’ve got to go and look up 


AT THE OPERA. 


329 


some one else, and she made the performance fizzle out 
to-night, besides being a deal of trouble all along with 
her delicate airs.” 

Leave the room ! ” cried Olive fiercely, trembling and 
white with uncontrollable rage. ‘‘ You have killed her. 
I hope you will remember it to your last day. You are 
her murderer, and whatever you paid her, it is more than 
likely she had given her life to work out for you, so what 
you are paid now is wages for your brutish work. Leave 
the room, I say ; you have no longer a right here, nor 
any claim, if indeed you ever had one, for I tell you I 
don’t believe you ever paid her a cent, even what you 
owed her, and you shall not breathe the same air with 
her longer.” 

Young woman, be careful ! ” thundered the manager, 
growing an irate scarlet, as the fiercely uttered words 
rolled in upon him ; but Olive met his gaze with flashing, 
undaunted eyes, and then the good doctor recovered 
from his speechless amaze and came between them, after 
which, Bettine, trembling with awe and fright, let the two 
gentlemen out. Olive dropped back into her seat, and 
through it all, Ernestine slept, her thin hands folded over 
her quiet bosom, and an air of utter repose on her face, 
as of one too near another world to heed struggles in 
this, even though they reached her weary hearing. 

So the night wore on, and save the doctor returning 
for a moment, utter silence reigned. Olive never moved 


330 


SIX GIRLS. 


from her low seat by the bed, with her face hid. Bettine 
dropped asleep in her chair, and Roger, over by the win- 
dow, found that his busy thoughts kept him awake for 
hours, but that he finally grew drowsy, and at last 
dropped into a doze, with his head against the casing. 

As the city bell tolled the hour of three, Ernestine 
opened her eyes slowly, with a weary air that seemed like 
regret, and looked about the dimly lighted room, with 
only a half conscious air. Roger received a slow won- 
dering look, then Bettine, and then her eyes fell on the 
figure by the bed, with crushed white flowers in her hair, 
and face bowed from sight ; but it seemed to matter little 
who they all were, for she made no move and looked 
away beyond them all, with a dreamy air of lingering 
stupor, that still held thoughts and memory in check. 
But presently a brighter light of reason crept into the 
eyes that made them open wider and look about once 
mere at the three silent figures, with more wonder and 
closer attention, and at last she put out her hand slowly, 
and touched the bowed head beside her ; and startled by 
the light pressure, Olive raised her head quickly, and 
they looked at each other. 

For a moment her heart stood still in terror, as the 
dark eyes rested on her face, then there came a feeble, 
husky moan of delirious joy. ‘‘ Olive ! Oh, Olive ! ’’ 
and Roger, wakened by the slight sound, sprang up, to 
find Ernestine fainted entirely away, and Olive rushed 


AT THE OPERA. 


331 


wildly for water ; at which Bettine also awakened, and 
shaking with fright, as her first thought was, that Ernes- 
tine was dying. But she was not, for with moistened 
lips and dampened brow, they brought a feeble flutter of 
life back, and with the first lifting of the eyelids, Olive 
bent down to lay her lips to those lhat tried to speak. 

Not another word for your life’s sake, darling. I 
am here. I am going to take you home to mama, but 
you must not speak.” 

Words cannot describe the incredulous joy and perfect 
peace that touched the wan face at the words, nor the 
bewildering happiness that lighted the sunken eyes, as> 
the feeble arms tried to clasp themselves about Olive’s^ 
neck, bat fell weakly down. 

Roger found his eyes blinded by tears as he stepped 
back to get the wine. “ Give her some,” he said, hand- 
ing the glass to Olive, and slipping his arm under Ernes- 
tine’s pillow to raise her head slightly, and Ernestine 
sipped slowly at the wine held to her lips, never once 
moving her eyes from Olive’s face, then lay back with 
that contented, peaceful look, like some who, from, 
facing despair, desperation, and the bitterest heart- ache,, 
suddenly find themselves cradled in perfect peace,, 
with no trouble, no want, no sadness, and too weak to 
wonder, hold fast their wild joy and are content. 

For a long time it seemed as though Ernestine cared 
to know nothing, save that Olive was beside her, held 


332 


SIX GIRLS. 


her hand, and bent to kiss her every few moments ; but, 
alter a long time her eyes went to Roger, as though she 
had just discovered his presence, and Olive answered the 
question in them. 

It is our Cousin Roger, dear, and Uncle Ridley, and 
Jean will be here in the morning; can^t you go to sleep, 
so as to be stronger then?^^ 

Ernestine's lips trembled with joy, but she shut her 
eyes instantly, as though to win sleep and hasten the 
morning ; but no sleep came, and so till daylight touched 
the world, Olive sat and held the hands that trembled 
eagerly, as the moments went by. At last, she grew per- 
fectly quiet, and Olive, knowing she had dropped asleep 
drew back from the long-held position that had made 
every muscle ache. 

‘‘Won’t you lie down?” whispered Roger. “You 
look like a ghost. I am going to sit out in the hall so as 
to keep things quiet when the boarders begin to leave 
their rooms.” 

“ How good you are ! ” said Olive, looking up at 
him with a sudden gratitude, and noting how pale and 
worn he looked from the long night of sleeplessness 
and anxiety. “ I can never thank you.” 

‘‘ Do not try,” he answered, pressing the hand she had 
held out to him, and looking at her with eyes she could 
not have failed to read had she not been in such a 
tumult of absorbing thoughts, and then he went carefully 


AT THE OPERA 


335 


out, and Olive, bidding sleepy Bettine to lie down, took 
her seat again by the bed, and daylight came up brightly, 
while she watched Ernestine’s sleeping face, with eyes 
that w’ere continually blinded by thankful tears. 

Soon after breakfast, the carriage from the Hall came 
dashing up to. the Virginia, and in a few moments, Mr. 
Congreve was stamping hurriedly up stairs, while James 
followed, carrying Jean, who was trembling like a leaf 
with eager excitement. 

God bless my soul ! I never did ! ” cried Mr. Con- 
greve, as Roger, hearing them coming, met them at the 
top of the last flight. ‘‘Such thundering stairs ! Why I 
sha’n’t breathe straight again for a month, and I don’t 
want to go in on the dear child puffing like a crazy por- 
poise. Let me sit right down here to blow my nose and 
get my breath. How is she, Roger? ” 

“ Better this morning. She ate a little breakfast and 
drank some wine, but is very weak yet. Jeanie, that is 
the room. You may go in, but go quietly,” said Roger, 
and Jean, being placed on the floor, almost forgot to use 
her cane, as she limped hurriedly along. 

Ernestine was watching the door with eager, hungry 
eyes, and the moment Jean appeared, she held out her 
feeble hands, and the next moment, Jean’s kisses were 
covering her face, and the little girl was saying in joyous 
eagerness : 

“ I knew God would bring you back. I ’ve asked Him 


834 


SIX GIRLS. 


every night since you went away. Oh, my precious, 
darling, Ernestine, I 'm so glad that I can’t help crying,” 
the delighted sobs bubbling up as she spoke ; while 
Ernestine, forbidden to speak, fondled the curly hair and 
dear little face, and feebly smiled her happiness. 

“ Well, my child, God bless you, I ’m glad we ’ve got 
you again,” was Mr. Congreve’s greeting, as he came in, 
making every effort not to be noisy or speak too loud, in 
consequence of which, his voice was dropped to a sepul- 
chural whisper, and he walked as if the floor was spread 
with eggs. But his kind, sharp eyes were full of tears, his 
voice shook, and he held her frail hand as though it was 
a precious wafer, that slight pressure might demolish. 

‘‘ The doctor was here, just now,” said Olive, ‘‘ He 
says we may take her out home by to-morrow, if she 
continues to do well.” 

‘‘Yes, yes, to be sure,” answered Mr. Congreve, 
retreating to the corner and employing both hands and 
an immense handkerchief to wipe away the tears. “ Has 
the child everything that she w^ants, Olive? I — God 
bless my soul ! she looks half dead already, as though 
she had been starved and treated like a dog I Con- 
found my eyes ! but then I must cry ; I ’d like to 
take a good out and out bellow, I would, indeed ; I 
have n’t felt so stuffed with tears for fifty years. Have 
you sent word to your mother?” 

“ No ; I w^anted to ask you about it. Ernestine is out 


AT THE OPERA. 


335 


of danger, and yet, if mama knows she is found and so ill, 
it will make her sick with anxiety and waiting, so I 
thought we had better wait until she is able to be taken 
home, then write.” 

**Just so, exactly; you ’re right, no doubt. I hope the 
dear child can be moved to-morrow, for this place is like 
a musty chicken coop ; I would n’t put my worst enemy’s 
dog in such a room, and I think I ’ll go down and blow 
off my feelings by telling the man who runs this shanty, 
just what I think of him ; ” and away went the excited 
old gentleman in a hurry, after telling Olive once more to 
spare no expense, if the dear child wanted anything. 

The next day Ernestine was taken to Congreve Hall. 

How many times had the girls thought of Ernestine, 
with her beauty, her grace, and queenly little airs, as being 
in Congreve Hall. How they had imagined her or- 
namenting its stately rooms, sweeping through the great 
halls, and queening it to her happy heart’s content, a fit 
inmate to its splendor. 

Now, on a bed, that could be lifted from the carriage, 
by two careful servants, and slowly taken in at the great 
entrance, wan, wasted, and helpless, Ernestine was going 
into Congreve Hall at last. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


COMING HOME. 

“ We have n^t had a letter from Olive this week/* said 
Bea, breaking a silence that had fallen upon them, as 
they sat sewing in the cheerful sitting-room. How long 
she has been gone I Is n’t it most time for her to be 
coming home, mama?** 

She was to stay as long as she was enjoying herself, 
and pleasing Uncle Ridley,** answered Mrs. Bering. I 
hardly thought she would stay so long on account of her 
studies, but from what she writes about the scenery and 
gallery of pictures at Congreve, I suppose she is having 
a little artistic revelry that is very pleasant.** 

“ Well, she has forever lost place in my eyes,** said 
Kat severely, ‘‘for not snubbing that chap. ‘Cousin 
Roger/ she calls him ! Stuff! He’s no more our cousin 
than I *m your uncle ; and he *s to own the Hall, when it 


COMING HOME. 


33r 


ought to be ours. I should think his conscience would 
wear a hole right through him, and if she brings that 
picture of his head home with her, I ’ll jab the carving- 
fork into it, sure’s the world!” 

It would make you feel better, I ’ve no doubt,” re- 
marked Kiltie, who sat by the window stitching ruffles, 
with a lady-like air, while a great bouquet ornamented 
the sill, shedding its fragrance through the room; it 
having been brought that morning by the polite colored 
man from Raymond’s, with a tiny, three-cornered card^ 
fastened to a rose-bud, and reading : 

“ FOR MISS KITTIE, FROM PANSY,’» 
in crazy-looking capitals. 

^^Well, I don’t see how she can,” said Kat, ‘^be so 
polite to a fellow who is paddling about in our canoe, 
while we flounder in the water, and get along the best 
we can. I think it’s too mean.” 

But it ’s not his fault,” remonstrated Bea. Uncle 
Ridley has a right to leave his money and house where 
he pleases ; and I ’m sure I can’t see what right we have 
to fuss, especially after all he’s done for us.” 

We have too much to be thankful for to make com- 
plaints of any kind,” said Mrs. Dering, looking out of 
the window, as the gate was heard to slam. There 
comes a boy ! You may go to the door, Kat, as you 
don’t appear to be doing anything.” 

Kat lifted herself from the floor with a yawn, and 


22 


338 


SIX GIRLS. 


strolled lazily out to the door, but came back in a mo- 
ment, with quicker steps, and less color in her face. 

It’s a despatch,” she said, holding out the envelope 
that always bears alarm in its very face ; and Mrs. Der- 
ing took it quickly, while the girls hung round her chair 
in anxiety. Was Olive or Jean sick? Neither. The 
paper unfolded, briefly read : 

“I will be home on Wednesday with Ernestine. She is 
quite ill. Meet the train with an easy carriage and pillows, 
and with Dr. B. «OLIVE.’» 

For a moment not a sound broke the stillness, then 
Mrs. Dering dropped the paper, and hid her face in her 
hands, and the girls knew that her first thought was to 
return thanks for this answer to her long, yearning 
prayers. A moment after, it was as though a whirl-wind 
had struck the peaceful room ; no one seemed to know, 
in the excitement that possessed them, just what it 
was they wanted to say or do, and between the joy and 
anxiety that the news occasioned, they all laughed 
and cried alternately. 

To-morrow is Wednesday, and Ernestine will be 
here. Oh, don’t it seem too happy to be true,” cried 
Kittie, wiping away her tears with a strand of ruffling. 

How do you suppose it ever happened ? I can hardly 
wait ; what shall we do to make time pass ? ” 

There proved to be plenty to keep their hands in 
keeping with their thoughts, for a room must be prepared 


COMING HOME. 


339 


for the invalid, and thoroughly prepared, too. They 
went to work on it that afternoon, first building a bright 
fire in the great fire-place, and throwing open all the 
windows to let the sunshine pour in. How strange it 
seemed ; how happy, and yet how sad ! Ernestine 
coming home ! Not dead nor lost, but coming home, 
feeble and helpless ! Where had she been all these 
long, weary months? and had any of their heart-aches 
and longings reached her ? Perhaps she had been sick 
and alone, had not known of their eager search, or 
been able to drag herself back to them. 

The girls laughed and cried, while they swept, and 
dusted, and made up the bed like a snow-bank, ready 
turned down to admit the weary form. The whitest, 
most beautifully fluted curtains were hung before the 
windows, whose panes glistened like diamonds from hot 
soap-suds and crisp rubbings. All the pretty knick- 
knacks were brought in and put upon the walls with an 
eye to Ernestine’s graceful little fancy likings. The 
easiest chairs, and prettiest rugs — in short, when fin- 
ished, it was a little bower, and Kittie put the finishing 
touches in the way of flowers and vines, that, together, 
with the sunshine, made a sick-room of perfection to 
greet the coming invalid. Mrs. Dering went down to 
Mr. Phillips’s to get Prince and the buggy, and found 
that the news had preceded her. The telegram had 
been repeated, and in an hour’s time had pretty near 


340 


SIX GIRLS. 


made the circle of Canfield; so her appearance was 
greeted with joyful congratulations and sympathetic 
rejoicing; for Canfield had taken the matter to hearty 
and having grieved with the family, were now prepared 
to rejoice with it also. Miss Clara Raymond met Mrs. 
Dering on her way to Mr. Phillipses, and offered their 
carriage, which was gratefully accepted, as it was large, 
low, and easy, and much more comfortable than the 
buggy for an invalid. 

Little sleeping was done that night, and in the morn- 
ing the girls cooked every dainty that Ernestine had ever 
loved. They cleaned the whole house till it shone, 
under the stress of excitement ; and, as train time drew 
near, they fairly grew weak and sick with anxiety and 
suspense. Mrs. Dering did not say much, but when the 
carriage came, and she put on her hat, while the girls 
got the pillows, they saw that she was pale and trembling, 
and that her voice shook beyond control when she gave 
Dr. Barnett a smiling ^^good-morning.’* 

There was nothing left to do, so after the carriage 
drove away the three girls sat on the steps, with their 
hands clasped, and waited. Kittie made one or two 
flying trips up stairs to see if everything was really beyond 
further improvement, while Kat vibrated nervously be- 
tween the porch and the gate, and Bea sat still, looking at 
her ring, and wondering if Ernestine would like the giver, 
and what she would say. 


COMING HOME. 


341 


There ! cried Kat at last, with a nervous jump. 

The train is in, now in just a little bit — 

It is possible that there was not a heart in Canfield but 
gave an expectant throb when the rumble and roar of the 
train shook the little place to its centre, and was heard to 
stop, a thing it did not often do ; and there were but few 
who did not imagine, and earnestly sympathize with the 
joy it was bringing to one home in their midst. 

There they come ! Oh, girls I feel perfectly faint,” 
•cried Kittie, making a grasp at the gate post, to sustain 
her trembling excited self. How slow and careful, — 
she must be so sick.” 

No one answered, but six eager eyes watched, and 
three throbbing hearts waited, as the horses came with 
slow steps, and the carriage rolled carefully along. The 
top had been raised, and curious gazers along the way 
■could see nothing ; neither could the girls, when at last 
the gate was reached, but though they went out, some- 
thing restrained their eager joyous welcome, and they said 
nothing. 

Olive got out first, then Mrs. Bering, and Dr. Barnett, 
and then came a strange gentleman, bearing a perfectly 
helpless and evidently unconscious figure, with its 
face covered ; and the girls shrank back to let them pass, 
then surrounded Olive with eager, trembling questions. 

She has fainted,” Olive said. She kept growing 
more excited after we left New York, and I thought she 


342 


SIX GIRLS. 


would faint when we came in sight of Canfield, but 
she did n’t, until the train stopped ; and then the 
moment she saw mama, she tried to speak, and fainted 
right away.” 

There was no time to ask, or answer further questions^ 
as they hurried into the house and up stairs, where 
Ernestine had been carried, and laid on to the soft, 
snowy bed ; but after one glance at her unconscious face, 
they drew back and burst into tears. Olive was talking 
to the strange gentleman, for whose name no one had 
thought to inquire, and Dr. Barnett and Mrs. Dering 
hung over the bed, winning life back to the fragile 
figure thereon. They all saw the first opening of her 
eyes, that went straight to one dear face, saw the feeble 
arms lifted with a strength, born of joy, and heard the 
sobbing cry: 

‘‘ Mama, mama ! darling mama ! ” and everybody 
cried. 

After awhile the girls went in and kissed her quietly, 
then the room was ordered to be cleared, and under 
the influence of an opiate, Ernestine sank to sleep, with 
her hands clasping those of the dear woman who was, 
and would be always, mama.” 

When they went down stairs, Olive presented them to 
Cousin Roger, and told in few words of all his kindness ; 
and Kat, the vivacious, who hated and longed to see him 
removed from the face of the earth, was seen to drop two 


COMING HOME. 


343 


big tears on his hand that she was shaking heartily. 
To Beatrice came the same vague, uncertain feeling that 
Olive had experienced when first seeing him, and he 
caught the same bewildered look in her eyes. 

Had she ever seen him before ? If not, what was it in 
his face that reminded her of — something ? 

Mrs. Bering did not leave Ernestine’s side again that 
day. Olive came up with her, and they held a long 
conversation in low voices ; and a look of perfect con- 
tent was seen to drift into the mother’s pale, anxious 
face, as she listened how Jean was growing well, and 
then looked down at the quiet sleeper — the one who 
had been snatched from the burning, and given back 
into her arms. 

‘‘Just think, if I had not gone to Virginia? ” Olive said 
that evening, while they were all in the kitchen, doing up 
the supper work. “ It really makes me tremble to think 
how I did not want to go, and hesitated about it. ” 

“ If I had been you, I should have screamed right out 
when she came on to the stage,” said Kat, unable to 
imagine herself in such a position and remaining quiet. 
“How did you feel, Olive?” 

“ So weak that 1 could not move, I never came so 
near losing my senses in my life, and it is such a dreadful 
feeling that you can’t scream. It was dreadful to sit 
there and watch her, and when the hemorrhage came, 
I just jumped and ran.” 


544 


SIX GIRLS. 


“ Dear me, how you must have felt,” said Kittie with a 
shiver, as she polished a tumbler brightly, and put it back 
in the water to every one’s amusement. 

I don’t know what I would have done without Cousin 
Roger,” said Olive. He was so kind and thoughtful.” 

‘‘ Who does he make me think of ? ” asked Bea, which 
caused Olive to look up in surprise. 

How strange ; he reminds me of some one, too, and 
it worried me so for a while, but I thought it was non- 
sense, and never spoke about it,” she said. 

‘‘Well, I s’pose it is a notion,” answered Bea, and 
then talk went back to Ernestine and Jean, of whom, it 
seemed, enough could never be told. 

The next day, a little discovery was made to the 
girls. 

Mr. Congreve was seen walking about in the fresh au- 
tumn sunshine, before breakfast, and the girls saw him 
gathering a small cluster of flowers, selecting from the 
dewy bunches with much care ; and after a while Olive, 
who had slept late with fatigue, came down in her grey 
wrapper with its blue facings, and part of the flowers were 
in her wavy hair, and part at her throat, with a little knot 
of ribbon. 

“ Good gracious ! ” cried Kat, rushing into the 
kitchen with a tragic expression, and setting a pile of 
dishes on the table with some force. “ Do you see that ? 
What’s this family coming to?” 


COMING HOME. 


345 


Dust/’ responded Kittie calmly. What ’s the 
matter, Kat?” 

Do you mean to tell me you did n’t see Olive 
wearing the flowers he gathered before breakfast, and 
that you didn’t see how he looked at her at the 
table?” cried Kat impatiently. 

‘‘ That ’s the way they all do ; it ’s the first symptoms 
I guess, for it ’s the way that Bea and Dr. Barnett 
began.” 

‘^Oh, the idea,” laughed Kittie, ^‘of Olive being in 
love.” 

I don’t care, perhaps she is n’t, but he is,” as- 
serted Kat, with an appeal to Bea, who had just come 
in. 

I don’t know,” said Bea. “ I saw him give her the 
flowers, and fasten the ones in her hair, but I don’t think 
it’s anything.” 

Well, you watch — there they go now ! ” exclaimed 
Kat, whereupon they all rushed to the window, to see 
Olive and Roger strolling out among the flowers. 

“ Would you ever think that was Olive?” said Kittie, 
as they looked. Think how quiet and snappy she used 
to be, and how ugly she always looked, and just see how 
pretty she is now, and how she laughs and talks. But 
she ’s not in love, dear no ; she looks as cool and 
dignified as a cucumber, not a bit blushy, or anything 
of the kind.” 


346 


SIX GIRLS. 


Well, I should hope not,” said Kat severely. One 
engaged sister is enough ; two would ruin the family.” 

If such a thing was to happen,” remarked Bea, with a 
little mercenary expectation, Congreve Hall would 
be Olivers ; just think of it, girls, how grand ! and Cousin 
Roger is immensely wealthy, and there would be no end 
of splendid things ; ” and Bea sighed a little, as she 
spoke, for she was not going to win any wealth or grand 
home by her wedding, and there came, just now, a little 
moment of regret, that such would never be her’s. Then 
she looked at her ring, and felt wicked and ungrateful. 
Would she exchange with Olive, or any other girl who 
might win wealth? No, no, never! 

Well, dear suz, what a funny place the world is,” said 
Kat. Here I Ve just hated that Roger Congreve, and 
now I could bless him forever, for being so good and 
kind, and after all, perhaps he 41 be my brother, and 
Congreve Hall come back to us. I don’t like it though,” 
she added, with energy, ‘^we’re all getting broken up 
some way ; it don’t seem like old times, and I don’t want 
any of us to get married I It ’s horrid, and I never will. 
Now Ernestine is home, I ’d rather be poor all the days 
of my life, and have us all stay together, and never get 
old, or big.” 

‘^Very good, but ^buds will be roses, and kittens, 
cats,’ as Jo says,” answered Bea, going off with a laugh. 

Ernestine was still too weak to see or say much this day. 


COMING HOME. 


34r 


She had been much better on leaving Virginia, and as the 
trip home was taken in the most luxurious way afforded to 
travellers, she might have stood it very well, had it not 
been for the nervous excitement that completely pros- 
trated her before home was reached. So Dr. Barnett 
prescribed the most perfect quiet, which was given, the 
girls only going in on tiptoe, now and then, to carry some 
little dainty, or smile their loving welcome, while Mrs. 
Dering spent all of her time at the bed side. Ernestine 
seemed perfectly content, for she lay for hours, with 
dreamy eyes fixed on Mrs. Dering’s face, and never spoke 
or moved, as though she had been beaten and bruised by 
her brief struggle with the world, and only wanted to lie 
at peace, with one dear face in constant sight ; and to let 
her tired life drift in or out. The change was heart- 
breaking, and drove the girls from her room at every 
visit, to hide their tears, and think, as in a dream, of the 
time when Ernestine, gay, frivolous, careless-hearted girl, 
was the sunshine of the house, the one being wha 
seemed to never feel or know the touch of care or 
sadness. 

Roger was to go back the second day, and on the 
evening before, he said : 

The scenery about this little place is perfectly beauti- 
ful. Does Canfield afford a livery stable, Olive ? If so, I 
will get a buggy in the morning, and you shall pilot 
me around the country.” 


348 


SIX GIRLS. 


Kat sent an expressive wink and nod of her head 
to Kittie and Bea, while Olive answered: 

“ There is a small one, I believe, where you might find 
something.’’ 

Perhaps they ’d loan you their wheel-barrow, ’’added 
Kat, who found herself in a fair way of liking this distant 
relative, in spite of his usurping what she termed the 
family position. 

So next morning Roger went down town, and came 
back in a rather dilapidated buggy, with a lamb-like 
looking horse, and said with a laugh, as he helped Olive 
in : 

‘‘The very best your city affords I hope it will not 
break with us, for my life is not insured.” 

“ My mind’s eye rests lovingly on Congreve Hall, 
as presided over by my artistic sister,” cried Kat, with 
a dramatic gesture, as they drove off; and the next 
moment she was looking after them with a touch of 
regretful sadness in her face. 

“ I don’t like it,” she said. “ Bea gone, Olive going, 
Jean way off, Ernestine so changed ; — oh, Kittie ! when 
anything happens to you, I will be ruined for sure. You 
don’t think you are going to fall in love, or be sick, or 
go away, or anything; do you?” 

“ Nonsense,” said Kittie, but gave an expressive hug 
that was soothing and satisfactory, and set Kat’s heart 
at rest. 


COMING HOME. 


349 


The ride in that clear morning air, brought a warm 
stain of color into Olive’s clear cheeks, and a sparkle to 
her eyes, that was very becoming ; and she laughed and 
talked, in a careless, happy way, that left no doubt in her 
companion’s mind as to her perfect ignorance of his love, 
and made him more determined not to return to Virginia, 
leaving her in ignorance. 

It was difficult to approach the subject, while her 
mind was so far away Irom it, and his perfect assur- 
ance as to her answer made it still harder for him. But 
Olive unconsciously led the way at last, for she was 
talking of their trip home, and dwelling gratefully on 
his care and kindness, her eyes bright with feeling, as 
she turned them to him suddenly : 

You have helped me through it all,” she said. I 
wish I could thank you for all your thoughtful kindness.’^ 

They were rolling lazily around a hill, with autumn 
colors on every side, and autumn’s soft winds fanning 
the air into life, and Olive thought the answer she 
received was some deceptive flutter of their wings. 

‘'Do not try,” he was saying. “Every care or anxiety 
you have felt have been to me as my own. I have tried 
to show you what you were to me, and I have failed, but 
you cannot help but understand me, when I say that I 
love you, Olive.” 

She did not take her eyes from a distant hill-top, 
where their glance had rested, neither did she blush or 


sm SIX GIRLS. 

look pleased when he finished, but was as silent for a mo- 
ment as though studying on what he had said ; then 
looked at him slowly : 

^'You surely do not mean it?** 

^^I surely do mean it, and have tried to make you see 
and know it, for weeks past, but your answer now is only 
what I had expected, for though I at first thought your 
indifference feigned, I soon came to see that neither I, 
nor any other man had ever received a thought from you, 
and to fear that I never would. You seemed wedded to 
3^our love of art, but now, when you know that I love you, 
cannot you find a little feeling somewhere in your heart 
for me, Olive?** 

No, I cannot,” answered Olive, after a moment, and 
with the air of one who had been literally hunting for 
something, and failed to find it. I could not help but 
think a great deal of you, when you made my visit so 
pleasant, and then was so kind when trouble came ; but 
I never dreamed that you loved me ; I really think you 
must be mistaken, it seems so strange. Why do 
you?** 

There was no misunderstanding the honest wonder in 
her eyes, as she asked the question, and no possibility of 
construing it into a desire for flattery. 

I have loved you,** he said, ever since that first 
sad night, so long ago, when you showed a womanly 
strength — ** 


COMING HOME. 


351 


^^What night she asked eagerly, the old vague 
remembrance coming back to her; and, at the interrup- 
tion, he looked at her in amaze. 

Is it possible you do not remember?’^ he asked. 

''No, I do not ; but the moment I saw you, there 
seemed a remembrance that has worried me ever since. 
What is it?’^ 

For a moment he hesitated to tell her. 

"It was I, who brought your father home,” he said, at 
last ; and with a swift, painful recollection, she dropped 
her face into her hands, and said nothing. 

" When you came to the Hall,” he went on presently, 
and was introduced to me, there was such an air of sur- 
prise, together with a look of pain in your face, that I 
immediately supposed you remembered me, and that the 
memory was painful, so I never spoke of it. I was trav- 
elling here in New York, and was on the train just a few 
seats behind your father. I saw him when he received 
the blow on the temple, and went to him as soon as pos- 
sible, and was the one asked to see him brought safely 
to his home. I did not know, until my return home, two 
weeks later, that it was Uncle Ridley’s nephew.” 

After he finished speaking, they rode in silence for a 
long way, and the peaceful old horse, finding himself un- 
guided, turned his head homeward, and jogged off more 
lively. Olive did not look up again. She was evidently 
lost in sad memories, that his words awakened, and he 


352 


SIX GIRLS. 


had not the heart to bring her back to a subject so for- 
eign to her thoughts as his love. So in silence, they 
reached home, and, as he helped her from the buggy^ 
Olive said with trembling lips : 

I ’m glad it was you. I loved papa better than any 
one in the world, and I can never forget that you saw 
him last and tried to help him.” Then, after telling 
her mother and the girls their additional cause for 
gratitude to him, she went off to her room, and was 
not seen again for some time ; for when affected so 
that tears were her only relief, she always took them 
alone. 

Roger went that night. He spent the afternoon sitting 
in Ernestine’s room with them all, and telling over and 
over the last moments of Mr. Bering, what he had over- 
heard him saying to another passenger just a few 
moments before the accident ; just how the blow came, 
so quick and painless, and how his last words had been 
of home, and how they would be surprised at his sudden 
departure. 

Olive was not present, and fearing that Roger might 
consider it rude, Mrs. Bering explained the little habit of 
taking all her grief alone, and how the reminding of that 
sad night had doubtless overcome her. But Olive came 
down just before supper, and her face showed plainer 
than ever before, its traces of heavy tears, though she 
said nothing about it, and seemed to think her absence 


COMING HOME. 


35a 


explained itself to the only one to whom an explanation 
was due. 

While the girls were busy in the kitchen, and mother 
was with Ernestine, they were alone in the sitting-room, 
and Roger said to her, as they stood by the window, 
watching the shadows creep through the yard, and lift 
themselves in a misty cloud ; 

Olive, have you no other answer for me, before I 
go?" 

‘‘ No,’’ said Olive, slowly. You seem so different to 
me. In one way, 1 love you ; I could not help it ; and, 
in another way, you are nothing to me. I wish you 
would forget that you ever thought you loved me, and let 
me feel as though you were my brother.” 

cannot,” he answered. ‘‘I do not think that 
I love you, but I know that I do, and that I always 
will ; and some time, when you are older, and come to 
feel that home-love and art cannot satisfy you, I will 
come back and try to win a place in the new yearn- 
ing.” 

^‘You needn’t,” said Olive, with discouraging honesty. 

shall never love any one that way. I don’t want to. 
All I want is mama and the girls, and to study until I am 
satisfied with myself, or as near it as I can be. But you 
mustn’t let that keep you away; you will forget this, 
indeed, you will, and . must come and see us often, and 
then everything will be delightful.” 


aa 


354 


SIX GIRLS. 


‘^No; I shall never come until I feel that I do not 
come in vain. Do not doubt my love, Olive, because 
your own heart is so free from it. It is a girlish heart, 
and when it reaches womanhood, I may not be the one 
to satisfy it, but I will come and try.” 


CHAPTER XX 


A SAD STORY. 

Ernestine was getting better, and how could she help 
it, with everything heart could wish, perfect peace and 
quiet, and six devoted hearts and pairs of hands, ready to 
obey her slightest command. She did not issue many, 
for one of the changes that had come to her, was asking 
for little, complaining of nothing, even her own suffering, 
but lying still, patient, contented, unselfish and quiet. 
She seemed grateful and pleased at the least little act of 
kindness, a thing she would have accepted before as a 
matter-of-course, and complained at not receiving ; and 
after she grew stronger, and the girls resumed thek gay- 
eties, she never seemed to regret for a moment, that she 
was removed from all such, and must he still, day after 
day ; when before, it was intolerable to pass a single day 
without something to pass away her gleeful spirits with. 


356 


SIX GIRLS. 


Canfield, with its promising circle of girls, budding 
into young ladyhood, was beginning to put on quite 
a number of social airs, in the way of little dances,, 
nutting parties, one or two literary clubs, and a card 
ditto : which acted upon the little place, like a fresh 
spring breeze, blowing in upon a pile of peaceful 
autumn leaves. The Dering girls were popular, and 
partook largely in all these innocent festivities, bring- 
ing gay accounts of them to Ernestine, to which she 
listened, with a quiet smile, but with never a wish to 
be in them. Nothing seemed to interest her so much,, 
as the new experience and dignity that had fallen 
upon Beatrice ; and for hours they would chat together 
of the new plans, and tender little fancys, which Bea 
had not the courage to confess to others, and Ernes- 
tine, bolstered up with pillows, would listen, and now 
and then, do a little of the pretty work that was going 
on to the bridal garments. 

After a while, when she grew strong enough to talk 
more, and cough less, she told them of her life, while 
they had been separated, and the girls never forgot the 
day on which they listened to it. She was partly sitting 
up in bed, as colorless as the snowy ruffled linen about 
her, with her beautiful golden hair in the old-time waves, 
and curly ends ; her lovely eyes, with their liquid brown 
lights and heavy lashes, and the dainty ruffles to her 
snowy night-dress, . fastened at the throat with a fragile 


A SAD STORY. 


357 


bit of coral, that seemed to throw a shade of its exquisite 
•coloring into her stainless face. 

It was a lovely home-scene, for the girls were sewing 
in their low rocking-chairs, Olive was sketching at the 
window, Mrs. Dering sat at the bedside holding Ernes- 
tine's hand, and over them all the autumn sunshine fell, 
warm and sweet, as with a touch of loving benediction ; 
and the trill of Jeanie^s canary down stairs, was the only 
sound, save Ernestine’s low voice, sad and sweet, in its 
feebleness. 

1 went on the midnight train, you know,” she was 
saying. ‘‘It seemed terrible, and with all the people 
around, I felt as if I was the only person out in the night. 
Oh, it is too horrible to feel so alone and as though no 
one knew, or cared where you were going, or what terri- 
ble trouble you might be in. Nearly everybody in the 
car was asleep, and there was only one lady ; so I sat 
down behind her, and for a long time I was so miserable 
myself that I did n’t notice her ; then her baby woke up, 
and began to cry, so did her little girl, and I saw that 
she was sick or something ; so in a little bit, I spoke to 
her, and asked if I could do anything. She said no, at 
first, but afterwards said if I would take the baby a 
moment, as she felt so sick and faint ; so I did, and he 
seemed so astonished that he stopped crying, and then 
the little girl wanted to come over in my seat, and I 
helped her over, and told the lady to lie down, as she 


358 


SIX GIRLS. 


looked very pale. I knew she was astonished at my 
being alone, and thought that she might ask my name, 
and after thinking about it a while, I decided to take my 
very own name, my — mothers,” with a little choke over 
the name. She did ask me in a little while, said I 
looked so young, and why was I travelling alone ; and I 
told her that I was an orphan, that my name was Flor- 
ence Clare, and that I was on my way to New York ; and 
then she looked so kind and interested that I burst right 
out crying. I could n’t help it. She did n’t ask me any 
more then, but when we got to New York, no one met 
her, and she was terribly worried. She asked me where 
I was going, and I was afraid she would think something 
was wrong if I told her I didn’t know where ; so I just 
gave any street and number, but I said that if she wanted 
me to go and help her, I could just as well as not, as no 
one was expecting me anywhere. She seemed very glad,, 
so I carried the children out, and after a policeman had 
called a hack for her, we went to St. Nicholas. She was 
very sick after we got there, and after I put the children 
to sleep, I sat up with her nearly all night. She was a 
widow, she said, and had written to a friend in New York 
to meet her on that train, but that, probably, he had not 
received the letter ; and that she wanted to go right on to 
Boston, next morning, if she was able. I asked her then 
if she did not want me to go with her, to take care of 
the children, that I was all alone in the world, and 


A SAD STORY. 


359 


obliged to work some way and somewhere, and after ask- 
ing me a great many questions, she said she would think 
about it. She seemed like a veiy good, kind lady, and 
I was afraid she would think there was something strange 
about me, so I made my story sound just as good as 
possible. I said I was coming to the city because I 
thought I could find work better than in a small place, 
and that I had no near relatives in the world, and w^ould 
like to go with her, because she looked kind, and I 
would just as soon take care of children as anything 
else. She looked at my clothes, but they were my very 
plainest ; and then she asked me what baggage I had, 
and I showed her my satchel, with nothing but some 
clothes in it, and then she said that I looked truthful, 
and too young and pretty to be alone in the city, and 
that I should go on with her in the morning. I don’t 
know what I would have done if it had n’t been for her, 
for when I was on the train, I had no idea where I would 
go or what I would do. Before I left home, I tried to 
feel right, to forget who I was, but I could n’t ; my head 
kept aching, and I thought every day that it ached 
harder, and that pretty soon I would be crazy ; and then 
I thought of going away where I could never be found, 
and die somewhere, and something made me go. It 
seemed as if I was being pulled away, and every time I 
heard any of the girls say ‘ mama,’ it came to me that 
you wasn’t my mama, that the girls were not my sisters, 


*360 


SIX GIRLS. 


then my head ached harder than ever and I couldn’t cry. 
I thought God must surely feel sorry for me, and that he 
sent the lady on purpose — ” and as Ernestine paused to 
cough and get breath, several tears were smuggled out of 
sight by her listeners, and Mrs. Dering’s voice trembled, 
as she kissed the speaker, and said : 

^‘He did, dear; believe it. I asked Him to care for 
and watch over you, wherever you might be, and I knew 
that He would.” 

I went on to Boston with her,” continued Ernestine, 
after a moment’s rest. I knew you would never find 
me there, and I didn’t want to know that you ever looked 
for me ; I knew you would, but I did n’t want to hear 
about it. For awhile the lady watched me very closely, 
and I knew she was a little distrustful, but the children 
liked me, and though the work nearly killed me, I kept 
up. I was with the children constantly, slept, ate, and 
went out with them, washed, dressed and took care 
of them from morning ’till night ; and sometimes I 
wished I could die, I was so tired and unhappy. I 
did not intend to stay with her, but meant to go on the 
stage just as soon as possible, though I never saw the 
papers, and had no chance of finding the names of 
companies. Once I asked to see the papers, but she 
did n’t like it ; she was never unkind really, but she 
always seemed a little suspicious, and when I asked 
for the paper, she said, what did I want it for? I had 


A SAD STORY. 


361 


a good place, and no need of the papers. I did n't want 
to tell her, for fear she would turn me off, so I just 
waited. One day I was singing the baby to sleep ; it was 
the first time I had ever sung in her house, and she 
happened to hear me, and came in and complimented 
my voice, said how beautiful it was, and why did n’t 
I use it, instead of wearing my life out nursing babies. 
I said right away that I wanted to, and meant to go on 
the stage as soon as I could ; then she was angry, and 
threatened to find another girl if I did not at once give 
up such a notion. I promised I would, but I did n’t 
and a few days later, I was out with the children, 
and saw an advertisement for fifty girls wanted at a play, 
and as soon as I got back, I told her I was going to leave. 
She was very angry, and kept that week’s wages, but 
I went, and the next day I answered the advertisement. 
It was for girls to dance, and I said I could not, and 
would not, and was just going to leave, when the 
manager came in, and stopped me. He began by mak- 
ing foolish speeches about how beautiful I was, but when 
I started away, he begged pardon, and said I was just 
what they wanted for a queen, who was to come out of a 
flower, and did not have to dance, which would suit me, 
since I was so overly-particular. At first I thought I 
never could, and it made me so ashamed, to think of 
being in such a crowd, that I felt like hiding my facq* 
forever. But there I was, with no home and no money. 


362 


SIX GIRLS. 


and what could I do? So I signed the contract for ten 
nights, at fifty cents a night, and felt that I could never 
look you in the face again, or any of the girls. It was 
not as bad as I expected, but oh, so different from what 
I had always thought the stage was. We all had to dress 
in a little room that was as cold as ice, and most of the 
girls were so loud and coarse, and talked slang, and they 
all took a dislike to me because I was queen. They 
called me old prudy,” and had all kinds of coarse jokes 
that made me feel as though I would die of shame ; 
I took cold the first night, the stage was so windy, and 
our dresses as thin as wisps, and then I was so mortified 
and miserable. I nearly starved while I was there, the 
pay was so small, and I could n’t afford to have any fire 
in my room at the small hotel, and took such a heavy 
cold that I thought I would die coughing. Oh, how 
wretched I was ! I wanted to die, for I thought I had 
fallen so low that you would never care for me again, 
and I never felt that I needed God as I did then. I 
don’t think I ever prayed honestly before, but it seemed 
as if that terrible feeling of being alone, would kill me, so 
I began to go to God, as I would to you, and it became 
such a comfort. I wanted to be good and honest, what- 
ever I did, so that I could feel that I still had a right to 
love and think of you all. I stayed with that company 
the rest of the winter, at a salary of two dollars a week, 
and did all manner of odds and ends. Sometimes go on 


A SAD STORY. 


363 


as a substitute, sometimes as a servant or some inferior 
character, and often to dress the leading ladies, when 
they found that I could do it nicely. The manager was 
a gruff, coarse man, but he had a kind heart, and after a 
while, he seemed to take a sort of interest in me, 
especially when my cough grew so bad. He brought me 
medicine twice, and one night asked me if I had been 
used to such a life. I told him, no, but would not 
answer any other questions. When the company broke 
up in the spring, he found me a place as nurse-girl 
in a family that he knew, and said, that in the fall, 
a friend of his was going to organize an opera troupe, 
and that he would try and get me in, for by that time, 
I had sung for him, and said that opera was what I 
had rather be in. 

found my second trial as nurse-girl, a great deal 
harder than the first ; for there were three children, all 
sick and cross, and when hot weather came, I had a 
little room up under the roof to sleep in, and the heat 
was frightful. I had to be up nearly every night with 
the children, for two of them were very sick during the 
hottest weather, and I was called upon for nearly every 
thing. Between the heat and working so hard, I gave 
out, and fainted one night, while sitting up with the little 
girl, and the doctor told my mistress that if I did not 
have a rest, I would be sick, and probably die on her 
hands. So in a few days, she sent me and her oldest 


364 


SIX GIRLS. 


girl out to her mother’s, who lived in the country. I 
was so glad and grateful for the rest, that I never can 
forget her. The grandmother was a plain, good- 
hearted old lady, who seemed very sorry for me, and 
she used to tell me every day, that I would never 
live to see another year, especially after she found that 
my mother had died of consumption. I didn’t care 
how soon I died, and told her so, and then she thought 
I was wicked, and began to preach long sermons to 
me, and give me all kinds of queer drinks and 
medicines, which did me much more good than the 
sermons, for after staying there three weeks, I 
was much better, as was Nettie; so we went back 
to the city, and I stayed with Mrs. Feathers until 
late in August. 

One day, Mr. Fox, the old manager, came 
and brought Mr. ’ Hurst, the friend who was going 
to organize the troupe, and I sang for him. He 
liked my voice, but said he would not engage me 
until I had rehearsed once or twice with the com- 
pany, so that he could see what I amounted to, and 
Mrs. Feathers said I might keep my place with her, 
until he had decided. After one or two rehearsals, 
he engaged me, at four dollars a week, and so I left 
Mrs. Feathers. She was so kind, gave me a new 
dress and two dollars, and said if I broke down in 
health, that her mother had taken a fancy to me, and 


A SAD STORY. 


365 


would like to have me come out again and stay 
awhile with her. I felt so grateful that I threw my 
arms around her neck and cried, and she kissed me ; 
I never shall forget how good it seemed to really be 
kissed again by some one who was a mother, and 
whom I knew, felt sorry for me. 

I had a very rough time in the new troupe. The 
manager was cross and rude, and I had to study hard 
to catch up with the old members ; we rehearsed stiff 
and steadily, and started out in September, visiting 
only small places first, and not making much money, 
so that our pay was often behind. In a while I was 
promoted from chorus singing to character, and I 
had no money to buy a wardrobe, so the manager 
paid me fifteen dollars that he owed me, and advanced 
ten—” 

Here Olive gave an indignant breath, but said noth- 
ing, on second thought; and Ernestine went on^ 
without noticing the interruption. 

I bought some stage clothes with part of it, and 
used the other to redeem my ring, that you gave 
me, mama, that I had been obliged to pawn for my 
board; but while I was working out the ten for him,. 
I had to pawn it again, and one of my dresses, as I 
had n’t a cent. We travelled south, and were in 
Virginia a few nights before going to Staunton, and 
when I heard that we were to go there, I felt as though 


366 


SIX GIRLS. 


I never could ! I did n’t know whether Jean was 
there yet, and I did n’t expect she would come to 
an opera if she was; but to go there, and perhaps 
be so near her, when I would have been glad to have 
died, just for the sake of seeing, or hearing from one 
of you, in some way — oh, it was so hard ! The 
manager grew very much provoked and impatient 
because I coughed so much and was so weak, and 
threatened to discharge me, as I was getting useless ; 
so I used to nearly strangle trying not to cough, and 
never dared say I was tired again. The very evening 
we got to Staunton, Miss Downs, one of the leading 
ladies, was taken quite sick, and the manager told 
me I would have to fake her part next evening, in 
'The Bohemian Girl,’ so I sat up nearly all night to 
study, and sang all next day, until I was ready to 
drop. When the time came to go to the theatre, I 
was so faint I could not stand up and dress ; I begged 
them not to tell the manager, for I knew he would 

discharge me right there ; but Madame T heard 

of it, and sent her maid up with a hot whiskey- toddy, 
and to help me dress, and that is the way I started 
out for the evening. 

"You know the rest. From the time that I felt 
my voice leaving me, and everything began growing 
dark, I did not know anything, until I opened my 
eyes, and saw Olive 1 Oh, I thought I was in Heaven, 


A SAD STORY. 


3G7 


surely ; it seemed too sweet to be true. I wonder 
I did not die, instead of faint, with pure joy. Even 
after I had looked at her long, had heard her speak, 
and felt her kisses, I could not believe it. I almost 
expected to wake up and find that I had been dream- 
ing between acts, on the cold, windy stage, or that 
the manager was scolding me for falling to sleep, and 
daring to dream of happiness and you. I don’t think 
I would have lived much longer, and perhaps when 
I found that I was really going to die, I could not 
have left you without a little word of some kind, for 
my heart used to nearly break with longing to know 
if you loved me yet, or would ever want to see me 
again. I did not feel as though I ever had a right 
to go back, but when I found that I was coming, that 
you wanted and loved me, oh, mama ! I thought then 
my heart would surely break, I was so happy ! ” 

At this point every one was crying. Mrs. Bering 
had laid her face down in the pillows ; the girls had, 
one by one, retired behind their work, and Kat, with 
her head wrapped in the towel she had been hemming 
was crying, while she vowed vengeance alike on saint 
and sinner. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


MY LADY. 

I WOULD like to see my lady/^ 

It was an imperious demand, that every one in the 
Dering household had become used to, likewise, to the 
speaker, a mite of humanity, with wicked big blue eyes, a 
pug nose, and a frowzled head of brown curls. 

She was dressed to day, in a long white fur cloak, a 
cap of the same, and a mite of a muff, with scarlet silk 
tassels, and hung to her neck with a broad scarlet ribbon ; 
and she had rung the bell with her own wee hand, and 
presented her message, in that imperative way, that 
indicated a spoiled, but precious specimen of babydom. 

I do hope you will forgive us,^’ said the smiling 
faced young lady, who accompanied her. ^‘We don’t 
intend to come every day, but mother made some de- 
licious chocolate cake yesterday, and I thought possibly 


MY LADY. 


36 ^ 


Miss Ernestine might relish a taste of it, with some of my 
wine Jelly ; and when I spoke of bringing it, Pansy heard 
me, and insisted on coming too ; so here we are.” 

How very kind you are,” said Bea, taking the dainty 
wicker basket, knotted with scarlet ribbons, and peeping 
in at its fancy glass of moulded jelly, the delicious cake^ 
and a bunch of hot-house flowers. We should be glad 
to see you every day ; how could we help it, when you 
always come laden like a good angel ! ” 

I would like — to — see — my — lady ! ” repeated 
Pansy, with impressive dignity, and some severity of 
manner; for what did she care about jelly, and good 
angels, and all that. I have n*t seen her since the 
other day before yesterday morning.” 

You shall see her right away,” laughed Bea, setting 
down the basket. Excuse me a moment, Miss Clara, 
Kittie is busy in the kitchen. I’ll take Pansy out there, 
before we go up stairs.” 

Kittie was pealing apples, and meditated on how she 
would trim her hat, since it had to be trimmed over, and 
nothing extra put to it; but she put all such thoughts 
aside when she saw her visitor, and made a seat for her 
on the bench. 

I ’spect I ’m most gladder to see you than I ever was 
before,” said Pansy, with a devoted smile, as she took her 
seat near Kittie. 

^‘Why, what are you sitting there for? Here I am,” 


24 


370 


SIX GIRLS. 


said Kat, who sat opposite slicing apples. I thought 
you always knew me.’^ 

Pansy looked from one to the other, for a moment, 
then nestled close to Kittie, as she remarked with 
decision : 

“You’re not my lady; you’re the other one.” 

“ How do you know?” 

Well, I ’spect I couldn’t jes tell, but then you are.” 

“ I should n’t wonder if you were right, but I want to 
tell you that you mustn’t love Kittie so much; she’s 
mine, and I ’m jealous,” said Kat, with a foreboding 
shake of her head. 

“But she keeped the bear from eating me up,” cried 
Pansy, with unshaken belief that she would have been 
forever lost except for Kittie’s timely arrival. “I jes 
never ’d seen my papa once any more, ’f she hadn’t 
finded me in the woods ; and he said I ought to love 
her jes as much more as ever I could, and I do,'' ac- 
companying the assertion with a loving clasp of Kittie’s 
arm, the suddenness of which sent her apple spinning 
across the floor. 

“There, see; I’ll get it,” she cried, running after it, 
with a triumphant glance at Kat. “ ’F I’d knocked 
your apple, you’d a scolded me.” 

“ Oh, no ; I’m an angel,” laughed Kat. “ Kittie’s the 
one that scolds.” 

“ Do you ? ” asked Pansy, leaning against Kittie, with a 


MY LADY. 


371 


devotion that nearly knocked the whole pan of apples 
over. 

“ I never scolded you, did I ? asked Kittie. 

‘‘No, but Auntie Raymond says I mind you the 
bestest of anybody. I think I do. I ’spect it ’s because 
I love you best, right up next to my papa; do you 
love me ? 

“ Ever so much.’’ 

“Well, I don’t know what I’ll dp,” said Pansy, 
with a long sigh, after she expressed a little rapture 
over the assurance. “My papa said the other day, 
what I ’d do when we went back to the city ’thout 
you, and I said I was going to take you along; ’ll 
you go ” 

“ How could I? Leave my mama and sisters?” 

“ But don’t you love me ’n my papa ? ” 

“ I love you a very great deal.” 

“ ’N not my papa?” 

“ I think he ’s a very nice gentleman, and that you 
ought to be a very good little girl, and love him lots 
and lots.” 

Pansy drew back, and slowly surveyed her idol, as 
though she had just discovered the first flaw. “ I think 
you might love him, too,” she said with a grieved air, and 
some resentment. 

“ If she loved him, she would n’t love you so much,” 
said Kat, slyly. 


372 


SIX GIRLS. 


‘^Then I’m glad you don’t,” exclaimed Pansy, with 
sudden satisfaction, and returning to her seat with an 
enraptured smile. 

There was no mistaking the child’s devotion. She 
firmly believed that Kittie had saved her from being lost 
forever, and on the foundation of her great gratitude, she 
had built an overwhelming love, that expressed itself in 
various ways. She never let any one of the family come 
to town without bringing flowers, and she insisted on 
coming in at least three times a week, herself; and it may 
be remarked, that whatever Pansy set her mind on, she 
did. 

Between aunts, uncles, and cousins, and a father,, 
who was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she was- 
the most wonderful child alive, she was in a fair way 
of being spoiled, and had finally come to where she 
ruled the household with the most imperious little will,, 
which every one submitted to, and thought delightful. 

Twice since the picnic, she had come with her papa, 
in the phaeton, and taken Kittie to ride, and three times,. 
Mr. Murray had come in the long summer evenings, and 
brought her to spend an hour or two ; and there Kittie’s 
acquaintance with him ceased. 

In the rides, he had talked to her but little, pre- 
ferring to listen to the unbroken chatter which Pansy 
kept up with her. And then he saw, that to her, he 
appeared in a fatherly guise, which made her feel 


MY LADY. 


373 


perfectly free and unrestrained, and he thought it best 
to leave it so for the present. 

His calls in the evenings had been entirely devoted 
to Mrs. Dering. They would sit on the porch, in 
proper, elderly fashion, sometimes joined by Bea, while 
the twins and Pansy would roam about the yard, and 
play together like three children, and Mr. Murray 
would have nothing to say to the one he really came 
to see except ‘‘ Good evening, Miss Kittie,’^ when he 
came, and when he left. 

No one, except his own sister, suspected in the 
least that anything took him there save a desire to 
accompany Pansy, whose absorbing devotion everyone 
in Canfield knew by this time. 

Mr. Murray was quick to see that in the mother’s 
eyes, Kittie and Kat were the merest children, and 
that a thought of any other kind in connection with 
them, would not be harbored for an instant ; and 
he also saw, that never a girlish heart was freer from 
anything of loves or lovers, than Kittie’s, and so 
long as it was so, he was quite content to let it 
remain, and watch it grow to maturity. There was 
no denying that he was strangely and powerfully in- 
terested in her, wonder and laugh at the idea, as he 
would, though he could not yet think that the feeling 
had assumed the name of love. It was only that 
respect and interest that comes to the heart of man 


374 


SIX GIRLS. 


when he meets a woman, lovely, fresh-hearted, and 
unselfishly sweet. 

The approaching digfiity of sixteen lay over the girls, 
and while Kat was still a most thoroughly romping 
tom-boy, Kittie was wonderfully womanly, with pretty, 
graceful, ladylike ways, the sweetest possible voice, 
and the loveliest eyes that ever looked, with girlish 
innocence, into the face of the man who felt that 
love her he could, and love her he would, in spite 
of himself. 

There was something irresistibly attractive and sweet 
to Paul Murray, in watching the love between his little 
daughter and the young girl. Kittie’s slightest word was 
law to Pansy ; and there was something so womanly in 
the way she exercised her influence, and made the child^s 
love a source of benefit unto her spoiled, wayward little 
self. 

When fall drifted into the chilly reign of winter, Mr. 
Murray went back to the city. He had intended going 
long before, but had put it off, a week at a time, until 
winter had finally come ; then he decided with a sudden 
determination, and, as if to test his firmness of purpose, 
had slipped away from Pansy, and galloped into town, 
trusting to the darkness to hide from Canfield’s prying 
eyes, that he was coming to the Bering’s alone. Not 
that he cared; oh, no, he would just as soon have 
heralded to every soul therein that it was so, but for 


MY LADY. 


375 


Kittie’s sake, it was best to give no one^s tongue a 
chance to wag. Many a bud is rudely hastened into 
blossom by impatient fingers, and withers from the 
shock ; it must not be so now. 

He fastened his horse at the gate, and went slowly up 
the walk, wondering a little if they w^ould be surprised. 
A bright light came from Ernestine's window, and one 
from down stairs, falling across the porch floor; and be- 
fore ringing the bell, he paused a moment, and looked 
in. How bright and homelike everything looked, and 
there, before the grate, stood the very object of his visit, 
making the prettiest picture imaginable, with a big 
kitchen apron on, her sleeves rolled up, and reading a 
letter. He knew it was Kittie, in a moment, for in her 
hair was a knot of scarlet ribbon, and the foot resting 
on the fender wore a bow, of the same color, astride 
its slippered toe — little niceties that Kat, was seldom, 
if ever, guilty of. 

Beatrice answered his ring, and tried to look as though 
she had not expected some one else, some one who 
would have given her a more cordial greeting, than 

Good evening. Miss Dering.’* 

Good evening, Mr. Murray ; walk in, please, and I 
will call mama,” said Bea, ushering him into the sitting- 
room, with some little wonder, and going up stairs. 

Kittie had vanished with her letter ; but as Mr. 
Murray sat down, he saw the envelope on the table, 


376 


SIX GIRLS. 


and immediately experienced the most peculiar and 
unpleasant sensation, on observing the masculine 
scrawls thereon. What gentleman was writing to her? 
he wondered, with quick resentment ; and the next 
moment Kittie came in, and found him studying that 
envelope closely. She had thrown off her apron, and 
let down her sleeves, and he thought she looked 
prettier the other way, though he found that either 
way she was suddenly invested with a stronger attraction 
than ever ; for a little competition will always make 
us more eager, and the star of our desire much 
brighter. He explained, with a laugh, as they sat 
down, that he had just been admiring the free, easy 
chirography on the envelope ; which same was a fib 
of first degree, but then — 

It is Cousin Ralph’s ; I think it beautiful,” 
said Kittie, unconsciously obliging, but giving no 
relief, for Mr. Murray’s mind went back to the day 
he met “ Cousin Ralph,” handsome, manly fellow, 
and he remembered that it was only second cousin, 
and that Ralph had been very attentive to Kittie at 
the picnic, and that — oh, what did n’t he think, * all 
in a few minutes; and how true it is that 

“ Trifles light as air, are to the jealous, 

Confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ,” 

The rebound from a feeling of perfect security to 
one of miserable doubt, at finding the field already 


MY LADY. 


377 


taken, nearly drove Mr. Murray into a precipitancy that 
he might have regretted forever. As it was, he answered 
Kittie’s inquiries for Pansy, in a pre-occupied way, that 
was surprising, and seemed too much pleased with that 
envelope to ever lay it down ; and yet, with all his look- 
ing, he failed to discover that the name, in a maze of 
flourishes, was Miss Kathleen Dering, instead of Miss 
Katherine. Just so do we make up our minds to see 
things in a certain light, and see them so, in spite of 
fate. 

How pleasant it was, sitting there in the warm 
firelight, with Kittie opposite, in the low rocking chair, 
and no one else near. It seemed so homelike and 
sweet to this man who had no fireside of his own, and 
only a memory of one short, happy year, when another 
girlish face and heart, not unlike Kittie’s, had been 
all his own. He wished now, that no one else would 
come in to spoil this cozy chat; but they did, in just 
a moment — Mrs. Dering andBea; and Kittie resigned 
the low rocker, for a corner over on the lounge, to 
his great regret. 

They all heard with polite and honest expressions 
of regret, that he was going to leave for the city on 
the next day; but after hearing that he was going to 
leave Pansy behind, Kittie was quite satisfied. 

“ I have no home, you know,” he said, looking at 
Mrs. Dering, with an expression that caused her kindly 


378 


SIX GIRLS. 


heart to pity him. ‘‘ I shall board, and be hard at 
work ’till late every night, and poor little Pansy would 
have a dreary life with a hired nurse. Besides, the 
influences surrounding her would not be such as I 
would like. So Sister Julia has kindly promised to 
keep her until I can make some arrangements, and 
become a little settled.” 

He staid for some time; promised to call in and 
see Olive, who had gone to her studies at last ; and 
then he rose to leave. If he held Kittie’s hand a little 
longer than any of the others, no one noticed it ; and 
if, in that good-bye, his eyes went to her face less 
guarded in their expression than usual, no one noticed 
that either, because no one dreamed of such a thing. 

“ May I have Pansy with me as often as I want 
her?” asked Kittie, just before he left. 

Certainly ; I shall always be pleased to hear that 
you still love the child, and that she is sometimes 
with you,” he answered, lingering, as if loth to go. 
But at that instant a step was heard on the porch, 
and a certain expression in Bea’s face warned him 
that the sitting-room would now be in demand ; 
whereupon he gave a hasty good-bye, and left ; not 
without a little envy for Dr. Barnett, who entered 
at the same moment, and who came, in the full 
assurance of recognized right, such as was not yet 
Paul Murray’s. 


MY LADY. 


379 


Of course, the family discreetly retired, after a few 
words of greeting to the young man, and while the 
cozy sitting-room took unto itself these 

“Two souls with but a single thought,” 

the Others went up to Ernestine's room to finish the 
evening. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, AND THEN TO LOSE. 

Spring came, and with it much that was of absorb- 
ing interest, of untold importance, and yet so sad. 
In May, Bea would leave the home of childhood and 
girlhood, and would be mistress of one of the prettiest 
little cottages in Canfield. She was blithely happy, 
and sang and sewed from morning until night, in a 
blissful content, that made mother and sisters smile 
and sigh at once ; and wonder how home would seem 
with Bea gone. Such marvels of pretty things as had 
been made, and such a little gem of a bower, as the 
new home was, and how happy and gay everything 
was, to be sure. Every Saturday night, when Olive 
came home from the city, her first trip was to the 
little cottage, to see the latest improvements ; for there 
were several, in the way of a verandah, a frail, spidery 


TO REAR, iO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 381 


looking summer-house, with a sick looking vine started 
over one corner, a new front fence, and a hitching 
post. Each and every one was of greatest importance 
and everybody in Canfield was as interested, as though 
they were one great family, just marrying off their 
first daughter. Bea visited her future dominion every 
day, as did the twins ; but Ernestine was not to go, 
until everything was ready for the new occupants, and 
then she was to pass her opinion on the whole, and 
suggest any changes that might strike her graceful 
fancy. 

“ It must have a name,” said Bea, coming in one 
day, just a week before the wedding. ‘‘ When Meg 
got married in ‘ Little Women,^ she went to house- 
keeping in a little cottage, and they called it Dovecot. 
What shall I call mine?” 

‘‘ Call it a house and let it go ; better not begin 
with fancy names and all that, it won’t last,” advised 
Kat, rigidly practical. 

“Yes, it will — always,” asserted Bea, with the fond 
delusive belief, experienced by every women when in 
love, that life will be one endless courtship and 
honey-moon. 

“ I think a name is a pretty idea,” said Kittie, 
recalling all the Roman titles she had ever heard of. 
“Call it — let’s see, call it Fern-nook.” 

“Yes, I would,” laughed Kat. “It’s so appropriate. 


382 


SIX GIRLS. 


There’s not a fern within a mile, and not the ghost 
of a nook anywhere.” 

Well, I thought Bird’s-nest a real pretty name,” 
said Bea, swinging her hat by its ribbon, and looking 
thoughtful. But, somehow, I want something else.” 

“ What kind of flowers are you going to have ? ” 
asked Kittie, with a view to selecting something appro- 
priate this time. 

‘‘ Geraniums in the big bed in front, with a border 
of some kind, then I will have vines all over the 
porch, and a lily in the little urn, and a heart-shaped 
bed of pansies under that shady side-window. None 
of those do for a name, though.” 

Kittie confessed that they did not, but said in a 
moment : 

‘‘ We ’ll go up and ask Ernestine, if she can’t think 
of something no one can.” To which they all agreed, 
and hurried up stairs forthwith. 

Ernestine was sitting up in ^e big rocker, in a 
lovely white wrapper, and a little fancy scarlet sacque. 
She looked very frail and weak, though very lovely, and 
much interested when the important question was put 
to her. The girls had perfect faith in her selection, 
and waited patiently, as her eyes went from the bud- 
ding trees outside, to the gleams of sunshine playing 
across the carpet, then to the bunch of purple pansies 
in the vase on the table. 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 383 

Call it Hearts- ease,’* she said then. 

I told you,” cried Kittie. That’s just the name.” 

Hearts-ease it is, to the en^ of the chapter 
exclairhed Kat with a flourish as of benediction. 

^‘Yes, that is lovely — and there comes Walter, 
I’ll go right down and tell him,” said Bea, and 
flitted gayly away. 

A penny for your thoughts, Ernestine,” said Kat, 
watching her eyes go out to the sunshine again with a 
dreamy smile. 

I was thinking how happy everything was,” an- 
swered Ernestine slowly. ‘‘ It’s all so lovely. Olive 
is doing so splendidly in her painting. Bea is so 
happy. Jean is coming home, and — I am here. I 
can hardly believe it even now, and I so often 
wonder if I’m happy enough.” 

This will be a gay old household,” said Kat 
briskly, warmed into gayety by the sad tone of the 
invalid’s voice. Uncle Ridley will make Bea a 
handsome present I expect.” 

How strange and delightful it will be to have Jeanie 
home, bless her precious little heart,” cried Kittie with 
loving eagerness. I can hardly wait, and mama seems 
almost too happy to live.” 

Jean has not changed much,” said Ernestine. ‘‘She 
is taller and sweeter looking, but just the same dear, 
quiet little thing. She walks with a cane now, and is 


384 


SIX GIRLS. 


perfectly straight. How glad I shall be to see her, I 
wish she was coming to-day ! 

She came the next, as if in answer to their eagerness 
and longing, and this is the way it happened. 

Mrs. Bering was in the hall, when she saw a 
carriage stop at the gate, and though Mr. Con- 
greve and Jean were expected in two or three days, 
it never occurred to her, that they might come before ; 
so while she took off her apron, and brushed a little 
flour — having been in the kitchen — ^from her dress, 
the arrivals had left the carriage, and were coming 
in at the gate. She got as far as the door, then 
paused, and caught her breath as if in a spasm of 
sudden joy. 

Coming up the walk, with swiftly flying feet, out- 
istretched arms, and glowing face wildly eager, was a light 
girlish figure, in a pretty travelling suit, and the mother, 
feeling her strength forsaking her, knelt down on the 
porch, and opened her arms, her lips dumb, her eyes 
blinded with great joyful tears. 

Could it be ? Oh, had God been so good ? Was the 
flying figure, with strong perfect limbs and bright eager 
face, her crippled, crooked little Jean? It seemed 
a dream too blissful to be true but the next moment, 
their arms were clasped, and Jean’s tears and kisses fell 
like rain, on her mother’s face and hair. 

‘‘ Oh mama ; precious darling mama ! are you glad ? 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 385 

are you happy that I ’m well ? Speak to me, mama ; 
what are you crying for?’* 

“ I ’m so happy, darling. Oh, my little Jean, I *m so 
glad and grateful,” cried Mrs. Bering, with a great 
sob, as she folded the little girl closer, and kissed 
her again and again. I knew you would come 
back to me better, I did not dream you would come 
well. Why did you not tell me, darling?” 

I wanted to surprise you,” began Jean ; but just 
then Kat came into the hall, beheld the astonishing 
spectacle, and with one shrill utterance of Jean’s name, 
that summoned the whole family, she had rushed to 
the porch, and taken the little girl in a great hug. 

Well, what a hub-bub there did follow ! How every- 
body hugged and kissed everybody, in the abandon- 
ment of joy ; how Uncle Ridley was deluged with 
caresses, and suddenly found himself holding Mrs. 
Bering in his arms, and patting her wildly on the 
back, while she cried on his shoulder. And did n’t 
Ernestine creep slowly down stairs, and appear like a 
frail spirit in their midst, and was n’t she whisked 
on to the lounge in a hurry, and kissed heartily by 
every one in the excitement. 

‘‘ God bless my soul ! How happy we all are ! 
cried Mr. Congreve, with a final gasp of joy, and 
sitting down with an exhausted smile. “I never ex- 
pected to be in such a good humor again as long 


:586 


SIX GIRLS. 


as I lived — no I never did. I’m fairly swelled up 
with happiness, and I’ve bust a button right off my 
vest.” 

Everybody laughed heartily. Gay words and blithe 
laughs hung on every one’s lips ; everything was sun- 
shine, and every one was happy. What a household idol 
was Jean in the days that followed! How mother and 
sisters clung to her, watched her walk — oh, joy of all 
joys — so straight and free; and how many, many times 
did Mrs. Dering go to Mr. Congreve, and put her arms 
about his neck, like a child, to thank him, again and 
again, as the agent whom God had sent to be the means 
of answering her most fervent prayers ! 

Well, to be sure, as Kat had said, it was a lively 
household now. 

The day before the wedding, the girls all went over to 
the new house — to “Hearts-ease.” Mr. Phillips sent the 
buggy over so that Ernestine could go, and she and Bea 
drove over, while the rest walked. It was a pretty little 
place, indeed, as they came in sight of it, nestled under 
a big tree, that was just budding into pale green in the 
spring sunshine. Everything was ready for the young 
bride to take possession on the next day, even to the 
mat laid before the front door on the new porch, and 
the bright tin cup hanging to the freshly-painted pump in 
the little back yard. 

Bea unlocked the door, with an air of proud import- 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 387 

arice, and they went in, all anxious to show Ernestine 
and Jean every corner, as it was their first visit. The 
little mite of a square hall, and the small sitting-room on 
one side, were covered with brown and white matting, 
with soft, woolly rugs of brown and white. Curtains of 
soft, shady brown were at the windows, and the walls 
were papered in clear creamy white, with a deep border 
of brown dashed in gold. The chairs were all willow, also 
a pretty, standing work-basket, already filled with some 
of Bea’s light work ; and there, on the table, lay some of 
the young doctor’s books and papers. The tiny dining 
room next, with its round table and new chairs, its little 
closet, with the shelves covered with snowy paper, and 
well stocked with dishes, all plain and cheap, but of 
pretty shapes and serviceable strength. Then the 
kitchen, shining with new tin, and a brisk little stove, 
and the rack hung with neatly-hemmed dish-cloths ; the 
brand new cake of soap on the table, and the orderly 
line of pots and kettles — oh, it was all a sight to tickle 
your eyes. 

Up stairs, the ceilings were low, and a very tall person 
would have bumped his head unmercifully, but then, it 
all looked lovely. The pretty bedroom was all in blue, 
and nearly everything in it was the work of Bea’s hands. 
She had made all the pretty mats on stands and bureaus, 
also the carpet ones on the floor. The daintily ruffled 
Swiss curtains, knotted with blue bows, she had made, 


388 


SIX GIRLS. 


washed, fluted and put up. All the fancy, pretty work 
about the bed was hers ; and the bunches of forget-me- 
nots that adorned the chamber-set, looked as though 
they had sprung into real life on the snowy surface, in- 
stead of having been stuck and artistically plastered on. 
Oh, it was all lovely, and beyond improvement, every 
one said, and Bea laughed and looked so proud and 
happy. 

This is to be my spare room,” she said, throwing 
open the door to the back room. The view from this 
window is just as pretty as the front, because it looks 
off to the hills ; and just as soon as we are able, we will 
furnish it, and I shall fix it just like my room, only in 
pale pink. Won’t it be lovely?” 

Ecstatic ! ” cried Kat. Who is it to be for ? ” 

All of you. I expect you and Kittie will have it firsts 
when mama and Jean and Ernestine go to visit Uncle 
Ridley next year. There are lots of things we can’t 
afford yet,” Bea continued, as they went down stairs* 
** I have n’t anything to put in the hall, and it looks a 
little bare, but I don’t mind it much. Then the parlor 
hasn’t a thing in it except the carpet and curtains ; but I 
can wait easy enough. I don’t want Walter to think I’m 
at all dissatisfied or want to be extravagant, because I 
think everything is just lovely, and I ’m so happy.” 

‘‘ Uncle Ridley said when he staried for the city this 
morning, that it was because he was in a hurry to see 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 389 

Olive, and to bring her home to-night ; but I just know 
he going to bring you something beautiful I exclaimed 
Jean, who had flitted everywhere, like a butterfly, and 
looked radiant with happiness. 

‘‘Of course he Ml get something,” said Kittie, polish- 
ing the slim, shining bannister with her handkerchief. 

Let *s hurry home ; the train has just come in since we 
left, and I know Ralph has sent something ; he said he 
was going to send his representative.” 

‘*1 don’t see anything that can be changed,” said 
Ernestine slowly, as they took a final peep into the 
«itting-room, “ unless you put that bracket with the figure 
under the picture over the mantel, and leave that space 
between the windows for the head that Olive is going to 
paint for you.” • 

“Yes, I’ll do that. And now come ; you look so tired, 
dear. Kittie, unhitch Prince for me, will you, while I 
lockup?” 

“ Oh, Bea, dear ! I hope you will always be so happy,” 
'exclaimed Ernestine, with a wistful sadness in her voice, 
as they drove slowly home ; and she laid her head on 
Bea’s shoulder with a tired sigh. “ It all seems so lovely, 
and I am so glad, though I shall miss you so after you 
are gone.” 

“ But I ’m not gone,” said Bea, much touched, as she 
slipped her arm around the frail form with a loving 
pressure. “ I ’ll be over home every day, and you will 


390 


SIX GIRLS. 


come and stay with me, and everything will be just as it 
is now, except that Walter will be your brother, and you 
know he loves you like one now.” 

‘‘ Yes, he is a dear fellow, and he will make you happy, 
I know. But I will not have you always, as 1 have since 
I came home — there, the girls have beaten us home, 
and Kat is waving her hat over the gate, so I suppose the 
box has come from Ralph.” 

Bea drove faster, in pleased anticipation, and as soon 
as they drew near, Kat cried excitedly : 

‘‘ Hurry up ! It ’s come ! pretty near as big as the 
woodshed, and awful heavy ! Kjttie and Jean are getting 
the nails out. Don’t stop to hitch. Prince is too glad 
to be here to go off of his own accord. Here, Ernes- 
tine, let me carry you,” and, as she spoke, she caught 
the frail, light form in her strong young arms, and walked 
off to the house with perfect ease, while Bea tied Prince,, 
and followed in a flutter. Sure enough, an immense box 
stood on the back porch, with the whole family around 
it, waiting for the owner to unpack, and Bea went down 
on her knees beside it, and began to throw out straw 
with an excited laugh. 

‘‘Oh, my patience! dishes!” cried Kittie, as the 
first bundles began to appear, and immediately arose 
the most extravagant cries of delight and approval, 
as one by one, Bea took out, and unwrapped the 
daintiest morsels of china, exquisitely painted in 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 391 

grasses, butterflies and flowers. Oh, how lovely they 
were ; the frail, tiny things, looking more like tairy 
waiters than anything intended for mortal use. Then 
came a dozen tea-spoons, table-spoons, knives and 
forks, all engraved ; a lovely card basket, swung by a 
silver chain, from the finger of a winged Mercury ; 
two beautiful napkin rings, marked “"Walter ” and 
“ Beatrice a dozen of the finest damask napkins, with 
a gorgeous “ B.’’ in the corner ; and lastly, a fancy dust- 
pan and brush, an indescribable sweeping cap, six of 
the most perfect kitchen aprons, a patent stove- hook, 
and an old shoe, with “ Good Luck,^^ painted in red 
letters on the sole. 

“Oh, I declare, I never did ! cried Bea, sitting 
down on the floor, to laugh and cry at the same time. 
“ Is n’t it all too lovely ! ” 

“What does the card say?” asked Jean, as the 
others began to carry in the china and things. “Just 

* Beatrice, 

FROM 

Aunt Tremayve and Ralph,*” 

answered Bea, looking at the card, that had been tied 
with a white ribbon to the nose of the tea-pot. “ How 
good they are ! I ’m too happy to live.” 

So it seemed, as she helped take in the things, 
laughing and crying, and touching them with careful, 
caressive fingers. They made a most imposing show, 


392 


SIX GIRLS. 


when arranged on the table, and during the day 
more modest presents, that came in from well wishing 
friends, were added to the collection. There came 
a fancy clock from Mr. Dane, three dozen handsome 
towels and four beautiful table spreads from Mrs. 
Dane ; and a variety of little things from the young 
people, with whom Bea was a favorite. 

As soon as Mr. Congreve and Olive arrived, on 
the evening train, they were taken in to view ‘‘ the 
shpw,*’ but the old gentleman added nothing to it, 
to every one’s surprise ; though he seemed pleased 
with everything there, and said it was a plenty for 
one bride. 

After supper, Olive disappeared and was gone some 
little time, but where, no one knew, and finally Mr. 
Congreve jumped up, with the remark, that he had 
heard her say something about Mrs. Dane’s, and as 
he knew where it was, he guessed he ’d walk over 
after her. 

‘‘ Never mind. Uncle Ridley, if she is there, Mr. 
Dane will walk home with her, and you must be tired,” 
said Mrs. Dering. 

“ God bless my soul, Elizabeth ! I ’m not an old 
man,” exclaimed the crusty old gentleman of seventy 
odd years, as he threw open the door, and strode briskly 
out into the May moonlight. “ 1 think a great deal 
of your Olive ; she ’s a thorough Congreve, and I ’d 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 393 

rather lose my best handkerchief than have anything 
happen to her — I had indeed. So go in, my dear, 
go in,” and Mrs. Dering obediently went in, as he 
tramped briskly down the walk. 

That last evening of Bea’s in the old home came 
very near being a sad one, in spite of every one’s 
attempt to the contrary. Ernestine stayed down stairs 
for the first evening since her illness, and the excite- 
ment brought a stain of color into her white cheeks 
that made her look more like her old self, as she lay 
on the lounge. 

Bea sat on the stool at her mother’s feet, and 
Mrs. Dering softly caressed the plump, white hand, 
that to-morrow she would give away, and now and 
then a pause would come, when the mother’s eyes 
would fill with tears, and her lips tremble, and then 
some one would rush in, to break the silence, and 
thrust irrelevant nonsense into the groove cut for April 
tears. 

Wliicrev^r Mr. Congreve and Olive came from, 
they had a serious talk on the way home. Something 
evidently disturbed the old gentleman’s mind, and he 
fidgetted nervously, until he had relieved himself with 
the explosive remark : 

“So you sent Roger home, did you?” 

“ No, sir, he went,” answered Olive, with a smile, 
but with some surprise. 


394 


SIX GIRLS. 


Humph ! He did, and what did you say, to make 
him come home, looking like a criminal expecting 
to be hung? ” 

^‘I said I couldn’t love him, and I can’t and don’t,” 
answered Olive, feeling provoked to think that Roger 
couldn’t keep his own counsel. 

^‘Tut, tut! what did you say that, for?” 

‘‘ Because it ’s the truth ; I like him very much 
indeed, but I don’t want any lovers, I’m too young, 
and something else to think about,” exclaimed Olive 
with unmistakable aversion to the thought. 

Heighty-tighty I your mother was married at 
eighteen,” cried the old gentleman briskly. 

‘‘I can’t help it, sir. I never want, or expect to 
marry. My work is all I want.” 

Yes, but your work will fail you some time, child ; 
a one-sided love on a single altar soon burns itself out 
for want of fuel. There must be 

‘ The happiness thrown on from kindred flames to sustain 
A spark of devotion for a lifeless love.’ 

The time will come when you may be alone in the 
world, and I ’m much mistaken if your art alone will 
satisfy the cravings of your woman’s heart.” 

Olive listened in some amaze to such a lengthy 
speech from the usually short spoken gentleman ; 
and though she felt no less certain of lifelong satisfac- 
tion with her art, she asked meekly: 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 395 

“What would you have me do, Uncle Ridley? I 
don’t love him.” 

“ But are you sure you don’t, my child ? I knew 
he loved you all along, and it made my old heart 
glad ; but I never knew how very dear you were to 
him, until he came back from here, and told me what 
you had said. You think marriage would interfere 
with your work, but it %i\l not; why, Roger is as 
proud and anxious for your success as ever you 
could be for yourself. He told me that if you 
would only let him share your work and efforts, that 
he would take you abroad, that you should see the 
finest paintings the world holds, and that you should 
study with the finest masters. You — ” but here 
he paused, for Olive gave a gasp, and turned white 
as a ghost in the moonlight. Abroad, masters t 
The words struck her like a flash of lightning, and 
made her tremble with a great rush of delicious 
longing. She clung to the old gentleman’s arm for a 
moment, and wondered if she was dreaming; but his 
next words brought her back; though she heard them 
but dimly. 

“ Here is a letter for you ; he wanted me to bring it, 
and Olive, don’t make up your mind too quickly. Both 
you and Roger are very dear to me, and I would like to- 
see 3"ou both happy before I die — as I suppose I must 
before many years, and — and — confound it! where’s 


396 


SIX GIRLS. 


my snuff? — I hope you will send a different word back 
to him.*’ 

Olive took the letter and put it in her pocket, still in 
that dazed wonder, and when they reached home, she 
longed to go off up stairs, and think it over alone, but it 
would be unkind on Bea’s last evening ; so she followed 
Mr. Congreve into the sittin^room, where a chorus of 
questions met them. 

God bless my soul, what curiosity ! ” cried the old 
gentleman, crustily. She went down town and I went 
after her, let that do.” 

So no one asked another question, except Jean, who 
got on to his lap with the freedom of one who knew that 
nothing she did would receive reproof; and she whis- 
pered something in his ear, that made him smile good- 
naturedly, and immediately take an immense pinch of 
■snuff. 

That night, as on the one so long ago, when Mr. Con- 
greve made his first visit to them, two persons found it 
hard to sleep, even after silence and slumber had long 
held the others in arms. 

To-night, as on that other, Mrs. Dering sat alone in 
her room, only now she sat by the window, instead of the 
dying fire. Now, as then, Jean slept soundly, only now 
her childish face wore the rosy flush of health instead of 
feebleness and pallor, and the little form was straight and 
perfect, instead of crooked and crippled. 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. SOT 


Who, but a mother, can appreciate a mother’s 
thoughts, when she stands on the threshold of the first 
separation ; the first giving up of her own into another’s 
love and keeping ^‘for better, for worse, until death 
should them part.” The pale young moon climbed 
slowly up above the tree-top, and just as its slanting 
rays reached the window-sill, and fell in across the 
floor, the door opened carefully, and Olive’s voice 
spoke : 

^‘Mama? You are up?” 

^‘Yes, dear; are you sick? What is the matter?” 

‘‘Nothing. I only want to tell you something;’^ 
and Olive pushed the stool up as she spoke, and sat 
down. 

“ I meant to tell you before, but somehow I never 
did. Will you listen now?” 

“ Certainly, dear ; ” for well enough she knew that 
something weighed on Olive’s mind to bring her there 
at that time. So Olive told her story, without a blush or 
hesitancy, from the beginning down to the receipt of the 
letter ; and as Mrs. Bering watched her face in the pale 
light, so clearly expressing its dislike to any lover, and its 
rapt devotion to her art, she knew well enough what the 
decision would be. 

“ And I ’m going to say no,” finished Olive, at last* 
“Have I done right, mama?” 

“ Perfectly, Olive. I am surprised, and yet not wholly 


398 


SIX GIRLS. 


so, for something of the kind occurred to me when he 
was here. Never marry where you do not love, dear. 
No possible advantage, influence, or station, that can 
be gained by a loveless marriage, will ever be suffi- 
cient recompense for the galling misery of two hearts, 
grinding their life out, for want of sympathy and 
mutual love to oil the way. I admire and think a 
gre^t deal of Roger Congreve, and you have won the 
love of a good man, dear, which if true, will bide its 
time patiently, and when you are older it may seem 
different to you. 

Olive looked up in mute amazement. Even mother 
said that to her. 

‘‘No,^^ she .said obstinately, in a moment. I don’t 
think it will be so. I know it will not. I ’m sorry 
that he loves me, because it will always keep us from 
being friends. Mama, surely you would not have me 
do such a thing as get married, and drop my work, as 
I would have to do, more or less, with so many new 
duties? ” 

No, dear, no ; I am only too glad that your heart 
is still free, for you are too young to think of marriage. 
I would not consent to it. Besides you are quite right ; 
with the duties and responsibilities of a wife, you could 
not devote your whole time and love to your art, and 
I should feel very sorry to think that anything is going 
to interfere with perfecting the talent which God has 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 399 

given you. But sooner or later, Olive, there comes to 
every woman, who stands alone, a yearning for love 
and home ; a desire to feel that there is some one whom 
she can claim as her own, and to whom she is dearer 
than aught else. Love your art, dear, work faithfully 
in it, and if it should always satisfy your heart, I will 
be quite content, for then you will always be my own. 
If the other feeling ever comes, God will take care 
of it. Now go, dear; don’t let this keep you awake 
longer, for we want all fresh faces to-morrow. Good 
night.” 

The clock struck one, as they gave a kiss in the 
moonlight, then Olive went slowly away; not a whit 
less certain, that every one was wrong, and she was 
right; no number of years could make any difference 
to her. 

Everything joined in making the next day the 
brightest, and loveliest that had ever dawned. Never 
did a May morning sun come up with a purer glitter 
of gold; never had the birds sang so sweetly; and 
never before, as any one remembered, had the rose- 
vines over the porch, blossomed before June, and yet 
this morning, there were three snowy half-blown 
buds peeping in at the window of Ernestine’s room, 
and she picked them to put in the bride’s brown 
hair. 

Pansy Murray came over early in the morning, and 


400 


SIX GIRLS. 


brought a beautiful bouquet to each of the sisters, 
excepting Bea, to whom she said with mysterious 
smiles ; ‘‘I could n’t bring your bouquet, but our 

green-house man’s going to come with it;” and 
then finding that Kittie was too busy to pay much 
attention to her, she devoted herself to Jean, whom 
she had seen once before, and fallen quite in love 
with. 

Bea had had some little longings for a stylish 
wedding, but it had been impossible, besides, she had 
found that Walter preferred a quiet home one ; so 
this morning, when the girls helped to dress her, and 
she put on her pretty brown suit, with the white 
rose-buds in her brown hair, she was perfectly con- 
tent, and would not have had it otherwise. 

‘‘You look lovely,” cried Kittie, with a rapturous 
sigh, when the last thing had been done, and they 
all drew back to inspect. 

“That dress is a beauty, and you look like a 
daisy.” 

“What do you think?” cried Kat, rushing in just 
then. “ Raymond’s gardener has brought your bou- 
quet, and what do you think it is ? ” 

“What?” cried the girls eagerly. 

“ A beautiful wedding- bell, all of white flowers ; and 
he ’s hanging it in the folding doors ; ” upon which 
announcement, every one ran down stairs, to view 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE, 401 

the new beauty, and the bride jerked the flowery 
clapper by its white ribbon ; then departed in haste, 
and with a sudden shyness, as Dr. Barnett and the 
minister, were seen coming slowly up the walk. 

No one cried when the supreme moment came, 
though Kittie was heard to sniff suspiciously, and Kat 
stared straight at a certain spot in the ceiling, until she 
was pretty near sightless ; while Ernestine’s eyes rested 
on the young wife’s face, with a loving wistful sadness, 
that was pathetic, and made Mr. Congreve whisk his 
handkerchief briskly about his eyes. Mrs. Dering stood 
with her arm about Jean, Olive was next with her 
arm in Mr. Congreve’s, and so they listened, and 
watched the little ceremony that gave Bea to another, 
and left the first vacancy in the home nest. As 
soon as it was over, and the rush of congratulations 
and kisses were given. Dr. Barnett took Bea’s hand 
and with a lowly bow, said to them all : 

Mother and sisters, relatives and friends, my wife 
and I will be pleased to have you come with us to 
our new home, and help eat our wedding breakfast.” 

Everybody buzzed with surprise, and looked for 
explanation to every one else ; but no one seemed to 
know more than another, even Bea, blushing like a 
rose, as she put on her new hat, looked as surprised 
as anybody. So there was nothing to be done but 
wait for some revelation. 

a6 


402 


SIX GIRLS. 


The walk from the old home to the new, was very 
short, and as the gay party took it in the warm sun- 
shine, every one on the way called, or smiled their 
congratulations to the pretty bride who walked with 
Uncle Ridley, while the young husband followed with 
his new-made mother. When they came in sight of 
the little cottage, there was smoke coming gayly from 
the kitchen chimney, and the front door stood widely 
open. 

What is it?” whispered Kittie, in a spasm of 
curiosity. 

‘‘ A breakfast already for them,” answered Olive. 
‘‘Dr. Barnett has got Huldah, and Bea does n^t know 
it.” 

Well, dear me, what a jolly confusion did follow. 
Bea was too much overcome to welcome any one to 
her new home, and nearly gave way to tears when 
Huldah was seen bowing ecstatically in the back-ground, 
and saying over and over ; “ Welcome home, Mrs. 

Barnett, how-dy-do?” 

“This is where Uncle Ridley and Olive were last 
night,” cried Jean excitedly, throwing open the parlor 
door, and pushing Mrs. Barnett in. “Just look!” 

Bea tried to speak, but couldn’t, and threw her 
arms about Mr. Congreve’s neck, while everybody else 
“oh’d” and “ah’d” about the parlor door. For 
was n’t it furnished with three of the most beautiful 


TO REAR, TO LOVE & THEN TO LOSE. 403 


easy chairs, a tiny lounge, two spidery-legged tables, 
with gilded chains — and — oh! — a piano! A shiny, 
beautiful upright piano, with a blue velvet stool. 

I did n’t do it all, Olive did half,” cried Mr. 
Congreve the first chance he had of making himself 
heard above the babel of admiration and gratitude ; 
whereupon Olive put in a hasty denial. She hadn’t 
done a thing but come over and arrange. Everything 
was from Uncle Ridley except the silver vase and 
bracket, between the windows.” 

Well, you Ve seen it now, that ’ll do. I was 
invited here to breakfast, and I’d like to have it,” 
cried the old gentleman, in a testy voice, which the 
good-natured gleam in his sharp eyes denied. So 
ever}’bcdy pranced into the dining-room, and Bea was 
placed behind the coffee-um, and couldn’t do a thing 
but blush, and look too happy and overcome to attend 
to her duties. 

Perfect silence fell, as the young husband lifted his 
hand, and in a voice that trembled slightly, asked the 
minister to request a blessing on this, the first meal 
in the new home. But when that was done, everybody 
broke into a babel of fun again, and a merrier meal 
was never witnessed anywhere. 

‘‘I shall come over and call on you this afternoon, 
Mrs. Barnett,” was Kat’s good-bye, when good-bye 
moment came. 


404 


SIX GIRLS. 


Everything is lovely ; may you live long, and 
always be thus gay,” said Kittie, who began to feel a 
queer sensation in her throat, and wanted to get off in 
a hurry. 

I don’t know what to say, except that I want you 
to be so happy, Bea dear,” Ernestine said, giving a 
good-bye kiss lingeringly. 

Well, I think weddings are splendid, though I wish 
you wasn’t goipg to have a new home, Bea,” remarked 
Jean with regret, as she tied on her hat, and shook 
hands with her new brother. 

I shall miss you dreadfully, and our room will seem 
so lonely,” was Olive’s next remark. “ But you must 
not let us be apart much.” 

‘‘I will not,” said Bea with full heart and eyes. “I 
will never love you any less, and we will all be just 
the same, except that you ’ll have a brother, and 
you know you’ve always wanted one.” 

I hope you ’ll be happy, dear child, I do indeed,”* 
said Mr. Congreve, with an exhaustive hand shake* 
*'But married life is full of swampy places, and you 
must both be careful: I ’ve only one piece of advice, 
and that is, whatever you do, don’t let your con- 
fidence and trust in each other get a shake, for it is 
the tree of married life, and one shake will knock 
off more apples of love and happiness than can ever 
be replaced.” 


TO REAR, TO LOVE, & THEN TO LOSE. 405 


'^God bless you both/^ said Mrs. Dering, with one 
hand in that of her daughter, the other in that of her 
new son. ‘‘ I give her to you freely, Walter, with per- 
fect faith in your love and loyalty, and a dear daughter 
is the most precious gift a mother ever yielded up. 
Be worthy of each other^s perfect love and trust, and 
once more, God bless you. Good-bye.^' 

To hear, to heed, to wed, 

Fair lot that maidens choose; 

Thy mother’s Cenderest words are saud, 

Thy face no more she views. 

Thy mother’s lot, my dear, 

She doth in nought accuse ; 

Her lot to bear, to nurse, to rear. 

To love— and then to lose. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


WHEN GOD DREW NEAR AMONG HIS OWN TO CHOOSE. 

^‘And is that the word you are going to send back, 
Olive ? ” 

^‘Yes, sir.” 

‘^And Roger must go abroad, alone?” 

I suppose so, if he goes at all.” 

Mr. Congreve sighed, and Olive began to tap her 
foot impatiently on the grass. 

Uncle Ridley, I could n’t ; I should hate him ; I 
should hate myself and my art, too, if I felt that I 
owed all its success to some one else. He would be 
miserably unhappy, and so would I. Even if I loved 
him as he wants me to, I couldn’t accept everything 
from him.” 

Too proud, Olive, too proud ; but then I suppose 
you are right ; indeed, I should n’t wonder if you were,” 


WHEN GOD DREW NEAR, ETC. 


407 


muttered the old gentleman, walking slowly back and 
forth with his eyes down. ‘‘But I hate to take this 
word back to the boy, I do indeed.” 

“ Well, I hn sure, he ’s a man, and I really think 
by this time, that he is quite reconciled to it. At any 
rate, he ’ll get over it before long,” said Olive 
complacently. 

“ God bless my soul ! ” cried Mr. Congreve, paus- 
ing before her, with a puzzled wonder in his shrewd 
eyes. “ Do you honestly so little realize what Roger’s 
nature is, or how much the boy loves you, and how 
he is waiting to hear what word I bring ! ” 

“ He ought to know hj this time that it is the same 
I gave to him. I told you, no, the day after you gave 
me the letter; surely, you told him so when you 
wrote.” 

“ But I did n’t, though. I thought, like as not, with 
.the prospect of travel, you might change your mind 
after you ’d thought about it more, and I told him 
that I was giving you time.” 

“You must think I am very weak and uncertain,” 
said Olive with some impatience. “ If he really is 
anxious for an answer, it is unkind to keep him waiting.” 

“ Well, well, that ’s so, I know, but I must confess 
that I thought the masters and travel would bring you 
’round,” and Mr. Congreve shook his head, as if in 
dire perplexity. 


408 


SIX GIRLS. 


I had rather work day and night, and win my own 
success, be it ever so little, than to owe the widest 
fame to another. Besides, I don’t want to be married, 
I would n’t be for an)rthing ; I want to belong to 
myself, and do as I please ! ” cried Olive, vehemently ; 
then slipped her arm through his, with a little coaxing 
gesture, such as she sometime used with the crusty 
old man, and said : 

There, Uncle Ridley, it is all settled, so let ’s not 
speak of it any more. There come Walter and Bea ; 
we ’ll walk down to the gate and meet them.” 

This was all a month after the wedding, and it was 
the loveliest June Sunday, imaginable. Mr. Congreve 
had dreaded so to go back to Virginia without Jean, 
that he had yielded to their entreaties, and spent that 
length of time with them ; but now he was going on 
the next day; and the old gentleman’s feelings were 
so deeply stirred with the thought that he was obliged 
to resort to his crusty manners to hide them. He 
had most fervently hoped that Olive would change 
her mind, though possessed with an inward conviction 
that she would not; yet even while he so deeply 
regretted her decision, he could not but admire the 
independence, that refused to sit with idle hands, and 
receive every advantage and advancement from another. 
Surely, if Olive ever did marry, she would bring some- 
thing to her husband besides her dependent self. 


WHEN GOD DREW NEAR, ETC. 


409 


and he might know, above all doubts, that indeed, 
he was truly loved in her heart of hearts. 

Every member of the family had grown to dearly 
love the crusty, abrupt, peculiar old man, who wore 
the goodness of his heart like a mantle about him, yet 
so modest with it. They never knew, until after he 
had left them, how much good he had quietly done 
in his morning walks about Canfield. How he had 
bought poor little lame Katie Gregg a great wax doll, 
that could speak and cry; filled the pantry of the 
hard-working widow mother with packages unnumbered, 
pretending to be so innocent of the deed, when she 
found who was the giver, and tried to thank him. 
There came to them, for many days after he had gone, 
reports, here and there, of the little deeds of kindness 
and acts of thoughtful generosity, the need of which, 
he had discovered at odd times and said nothing 
about, with the modesty which is characteristic of the 
true giver. 

The parting was a truly sad one,' yet not with- 
out its funny side, for the old gentleman was so torn 
up in mind that his actions were irresistibly funny. 
He whisked his red handkerchief about with such 
energy that its edges were pretty near in strips ; and 
he blew his poor old nose in such repeated and violent 
fashions, that it clearly resembled a highly colored 
tomato. 


410 


SIX GIRLS. 


'' There won’t be any little girl any where,” he said, 
mournfully. ‘‘ It will be so lonesome in the morning, 
and in the evening, and all in the day, and I will 
wonder if Jeanie is never coming down stairs to sit in 
my lap in the old library. I shall get cross, and ugly 
as a bear, for want of two little hands to smooth the 
wrinkles out of my old forehead, and a dear little 
girl to keep my heart in good working order. It will 
all be dreadful ! dreadful ! ” 

There was something pathetic in the picture they 
made, sitting there. The old man, with his white 
head and tear dimmed eyes, holding Jean in his lap, 
with her arms about his neck, and his wrinkled cheek 
rested on her curly hair. 

I have n’t very much longer to live,” he went on, 
in that pathetic way, ^^and I shall have to crawl 
through the last little while all by myself. I suppose 
the dear good Lord knows best, but I don’t see why 
He gave me two little girls to love, and then took 
them both away. Even Olive won’t go back with 
me, and Roger will go off, and it will be dreadful ! 
dreadful 1 ” 

So far down had the poor man’s spirits gone, that 
he seemed perfectly lost in pathetic resignation. Even 
the apparently unquenchable handkerchief hung limp 
and inactive from a coat-tail pocket, where it had 
been jammed in a moment of unresigned despair; 


WHEN GOD DREW NEAR, ETC. 


411 


and the big tears dropped one by one on Jeanie’s 
hair, as he talked now in that quiet, grieved way. 

‘‘Will you come back to us?*^ asked Mrs. Dering, 
much touched, and laying her hands on his shoulder. 
“ We should so love to have you, Uncle Ridley, all 
of us. Go home and send Roger off if he wants 
to go ; leave the Hall with such old servants as you 
can trust, and then come back to us, and call this 
home. Will you?” 

“Will I?” Mr. Congreve jumped up, and the 
handkerchief came out in all its color and activity. 
“Are you really in earnest, Elizabeth? Would you 
have such a crusty old humbug as I am, around?” 

“ In the truest and warmest earnest. Uncle Ridley.” 

“Oh, please do,” cried Jean eagerly ; and the other 
girls echoed it. 

“ If I ever I God bless my soul! I never did!’^ 
exclaimed Mr. Congreve, falling back into his chair,, 
perfectly overcome. “ You will let me come and stay 
till next summer, then you and Jean and Ernestine 
go home with me, as you promised ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Dering. 

“Well, well, I might have known that the good 
Lord would fix it some way. That's just the thing. 
I’ll do it, Elizabeth; I will. Where’s my snuff-box 
and satchel I It’s pretty near train time.” 

Jean ran to get them, while Mr. Congreve went 


412 


SIX GIRLS. 


up stairs to say good-bye to Ernestine; and when he 
went off at last, it was in the gayest possible spirits, 
with promises to be back as soon as Roger started 
abroad ; and so all the sadness was taken from the 
parting. 

They thought he would be back in^ at least, a 
month, but the time lengthened itself into three and 
four, and yet he did not come. Roger was sick, to 
begin with, and did not gain strength very rapidly, 
and nothing could have made the old man leave him. 

But I can stand it very well,’* he wrote. I 
know that it’s not going to last, so I can keep up 
plenty of spirits, with thinking of the time when I 
will come. The boy is getting better fast, and as 
soon as he settles up a little business, he is off, 
and then I will shut up and be off likewise, in a 
hurry.” 

But they at home, found hands and hearts busy 
with new work that was sadly brief and bitter. As 
the warm weather came, Ernestine began to fail 
rapidly. She suffered no new pain, nor uttered no 
complaint, but as the days went by, and the intense 
heat of summer burned all purity and life from the 
air, she just seemed to droop, and bow her head 
feebly beneath the oppressive heat ; and the frail stem 
of life snapped, with the weight of its own slight 
self. They had hoped against hope, that the sad 


WHEN GOD DREW NEAR, ETC. 


m 


end could be fought off, and with the first coming 
of warm days, Mrs. Dering had proposed going 
to the sea-side with her; but Dr. Barnett, who had 
fought eagerly and desperately with the dread disease, 
told them that it would do no good. The excite- 
ment might only hasten the end, and better to leave 
her quiet, and so contentedly happy as she seemed, 
than to bring new faces and new scenes to worry 
and distract the last feeble remnant of her strength. 
So they submitted themselves to his word, as one 
of authority, and took upon themselves the sad duty 
of watching a loved life drift peacefully out, an4 
trying to say, as the end drew near : Thy will be 

done.” 

The big rocking-chair, the pretty wrappers, and 
gayly colored sacques were all laid aside now. The 
feeblest strength could no longer lift the frail form, 
and all the patient sufferer said when lifted or moved 
was, “Pm so tired; that will do; it is quite easy.’^ 
Then the short breath would give out, and she could 
only thank them with her eyes, that daily grew more 
eloquently beautiful, as though the spfrit, refined 
through suffering, were taking its last, long farewell 
look at mother and sisters, and uttering wordless 
thanks, which the heart loving them framed, but the 
lips weakly refused to utter. 

“The end is not far off,” Dr. Barnett said, one 


414 


SIX GIRLS. 


sultry August night, after he had left the sick-room. 

I shall go down and telegraph for Olive to come 
on the first train.’’ 

Mrs. Bering laid her clasped hands on his arms 
with a little gasp, as of one long expecting a bitter 
draught, and finding the cup held to her lips at last. 
But she was very quiet. 

You think it will come to-night?” 

^‘Hardly. She may live through to-morrow, but no 
longer, mother. 

There was something so helpful in his presence, 
the warm, loving utterance of that dear name, and 
the strong, tender clasp of his hands, and she clung 
to him for a moment, as in recognition of the com- 
fort and help he was, and had been in these sad 
days. 

‘‘They have telegraphed for Olive,” Kittie whis- 
pered to Kat and Jean, as they three sat sleeplessly 
on the bedside, with their arms about each other, 
and a pale, hushed awe in their faces. 

“That means that she is going to die,” cried Kat. 
trembling. “ Oh, how dreadful it is ! I don’t think 
it’s right, no I don’t.” 

“Hush,” said Kittie, solemnly; but she couldn’t 
say any more. Her own heart was sadly rebellious, 
and could not think it was right. 

“ It must be,” said Jean slowly, in her sweet, quiet 


WHEN GOD DREW NEAR, ETC. 


415 


way. God never does what is n’t right ; He can’t, 
girls, though we can’t always understand why some 
things are.” 

No one was disposed to speak further on the sub- 
ject, the like of which has vexed many great minds, 
the world over, but they sat there hushed and quiet, 
and with awe-stricken hearts, as though they heard 
or felt the noiseless approach of the coming king, 
who passed them by, and went into the room where 
the pale mother watched and prayed beside the quiet 
sleeper. 

Dr. Barnett came back soon, and brought Bea 
with him ; but after looking in to speak a few 
hurried words that tried to be of comfort, she went 
into the other room, to take her place by the bed- 
side, while the worn mother snatched a little rest, if 
not sleep, on the lounge near by. So the night crept 
slowly by, while anxious hearts and sleepless eyes 
kept sad vigil. In the first grey dawn of morning, 
Olive came ; but when daylight fairly blushed into 
rosy sunshine, Ernestine awoke from a long sleep, 
clear-eyed, feverless, and rational, and recognized them 
all with a quiet, peaceful smile. 

^^You home in the middle of the week?” she said 
to Olive, with a little wondering surprise. 

Dr. Barnett sent one swift, wordless glance of 
warning, and Olive caught it. 


416 


SIX GIRLS. 


“Yes, I was not very busy this week and thought 
I would come home last night,” she said, warmly 
pressing the almost transparent fingers lying on the 
coverlid, adding brightly : ‘‘ How well you look this 
morning I ” 

“ I feel better,” answered Ernestine, slowly. “ So 
strangely better; all rested and in no pain. Where 
is mama?” 

“ Here, darling.” 

“I — I feel so much better, mama,” lifting the 
feeble hand, with a look of pleasure in her wan face. 
“It seems as if I was lying on the softest feathers, 
and all well again. Everything is so very easy, and I 
haven’t any pain.” 

“You are much better, dear, and we are very 
glad ; ” but Mrs. Bering bent her head as she spoke, 
that no one might see the tremble of her lips, for 
well she knew, without any word or glance at her 
son-in-law’s face, that the sufferer was passing into 
the sunlight of God’s loving rest and love, and that 
the passing away of pain was because His hand had 
already touched her. 

But to the girls it seemed different. To them, the 
clear, bright eyes, the quiet, easy breathing, and rest- 
ful feeling, meant better for life, and they had a 
joyful jubilant time over it down stairs. They gath- 
ered the loveliest flowers in bloom, and took them 


WHEN GOD DREW NEAR, ETC. 417 

up stairs, and Ernestine smiled brightly and even held 
them for a few moments in her weak hands, keeping 
a pure, pale, creamy bud, when they put the rest in 
water. 

During the day Dr. Barnett brought some mail 
from the office, among which was a letter from Ralph 
for Kat, and a strange one from New York for 
Kittie, which proved to be from Mr. Murray. 

How funny ! ” she said, with a pleased smile. 

^‘What is he writing to you for?” inquired Kat, 
sharing the general interest and curiosity to such an 
extent that she forgot her own letter. Is Pansy sick? ” 
No ; he only says how she is, and how she 
wishes for me every day, and wants me to write a 
letter, all to herself,” answered Kittie, too busy run- 
ning her eyes over the few lines, with the signature 

“Yours, most sincerely, 

“PAUL MURRAY,” 

in bold, handsome hand, to notice the different ex- 
pressions in the eyes that were watching her pleased, 
smiling face. Perhaps no one detected therein just 
what Mrs. Dering did, for it takes a marvelously 
small thing to open a mother's eyes. But then 
Kittie’s pleasure was as innocent as a child’s ; she 
read that letter over and over, and admired the beau- 
tiful writing, but thought that all her pleasure grew 
from the fact of hearing from Pansy, who had been 


27 


418 


SIX GIRLS. 


gone a month, and said, as she put it in her pocket, 
‘‘It was very kind in Mr. Murray to write, I’m sure 
for I did want to hear from Pansy.” 

But every one forgot the letters after awhile. 

At supper-time Ernestine asked for something to 
eat. She even raised herself from the pillow by her 
own strength, and said how very hungry she was, 
and as the girls left the room to get what she asked 
for, a strange cold thrill struck their hearts. Eagerly, 
as though famishing, Ernestine eat the cream toast 
that they brought, drank the chocolate, and asked 
for more. 

“ Give her all she wants,” said Dr. Barnett, in 
answer to an appealing look from Mrs. Dering; and 
so they brought more, with the strange pain still in 
their hearts ; and she ate it eagerly, with that un- 
earthly brightness in her eyes, and such a fluttering 
stain of scarlet in her wasted cheeks. The sad truth 
came first to Beatrice, as she looked from husband 
to mother, and read it in their pale, quiet faces ; 
then it came to Olive, for she drew near, and put 
her arm around Bea, with a touch that both gave 
and asked for help ; and then Kittie and Kat, seeing 
the hopeless sadness in their faces, suddenly realized 
that they stood in the dread presence at last, and 
with one accord turned to each other for help ; 
while Jean crept to her mother’s side, and hid her 


WHEN GOD DREW NEAR, ETC. 


419 


face in the folds of her dress. So death found 
them, as he drew near, and claimed a place before 
mother, sisters, or brother ; but he did not come 
repulsively, or like the grinning head that portrays 
him to our mind's eye ; instead, it seemed as though 
a white angel, with kindly eyes had drawn near, and 
breathed upon the sufferer before he kissed the life 
from her lips ; for after a short stupor Ernestine 
awoke, and looked upon them with peaceful, shining 
eyes. 

“ Don't cry," she said, softly. I am only going 
before, as papa did. I think I saw him while I slept, 
and I am not afraid. It is not a dark river, mama, 
but beautiful and bright, and nothing can happen, for 
God stands there and smiles. Please don't cry, or 
shut the windows ; let the sunshine come in, and be 
glad that I will never suffer any more. Lift me up, 
mama." 

Mrs. Dering did so, and with her head pillowed 
on that dear breast, Ernestine sank to sleep like a 
child, breathing softly ; while ^ the shadows fell, and 
no one stirred. But the early moon rose slowly, and 
lighted the room, and as she drew her last breath, 
with a fluttering little sigh, it fell across her face, 
pure and sweet, and touched the withered rose-bud, 
lying on the pillow. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


TWO SECRETS. 

Joy and sorrow, laughter and tears come and go 
and mingle as one in memory of the past. Between 
now and then, time weaves a veil, misty with tears 
of our sorrow, and diamond dusted with the bright 
laughter of our joy, and as we look through it, on 
the path that weaves our footsteps, the sunshine and 
shadows, that have fallen thereon, mingle and soften 
each other, so that neither the brilliant light of one 
nor the saddening shade of the other can pain our 
eyes, that look back, in wistful, happy memory. 

In the fresh, pure air, that follows rain on a sum- 
mer day, Kat was leaning from the window, and 
watching the sun go slowly down behind the hills; 
while slender spires of light shot up into the hazy 
atmosphere, and pierced the flitting clouds. She was 


TWO SECRETS. 


421 


gazing idly, with eyes in which many thoughts lay 
dreamily, and the slight smile that touched her lips 
came, perhaps, from something in the letter that lay 
open in her lap, or maybe from the distant view of 
a basket buggy, drawn by a white pony, coming slowly 
down the road, as though the riders were in no 
haste. 

At any rate, she smiled ; and it crept from the corners 
of her roguish mouth up to her eyes, and made her 
face very attractive, especially as she leaned it against 
the vines that crept in at the window, and looked 
thoughtfully down at the open letter. It was one 
such as she received very often now-a-days, as a very 
large pack, all of that year’s date, much worn, and 
tied with a blue ribbon, would testify. Most of them 
were dashed boldly off on large office paper, with 

Kathie dear,” flourished into one comer, and news 
of all kinds, inquiries and odds and ends, fifing 
several sheets, and Yours, Ralph,” in business scrawls 
at the bottom. But this was different. It was on 
small note paper to begin with, much more carefully 
written than usual, and contained no address what- 
ever, simply starting off with what the writer had to 
say, and only filling three pages. 

There was one particular place where Kat’s eyes 
lingered, and where she smiled, very slowly, as though 
it was something not to be enjoyed fully, all at once ; 


422 


SIX GIRLS. 


and we will look right over her shoulder and read it, 
as she does again and again : — 

“The time is up now, and I am coming, if you 
say for me to. Will you.? All my work has been done 
with the hope that you would let me come and share 
my success, whatever it might be, with you. It has 
been my one thought, and greatest incentive since I 
learned to know, and love you, as I did in the old 
days, when we skirmished and were gayly, together. 
To-day, when I saw my name added as junior partner, 
to the. finest law firm in our city, I thought of you, 
and felt more willing and proud to offer you that name. 
If you bid me come, I will do so ; the walk out to 
Raymond’s is short, and shall I meet you on the road? 

“ RALPH.” 

Should he meet her on the road ? I Ve no w^ay of 
telling you, I’m sure, for her answer is written and 
gone, and I, like you, will have to wait and see. 

The white pony and basket buggy draws nearer, 
it comes through the gate and up the drive, and as 
Kat watches it, some one comes to her side and looks 
out also. 

“They’ve been a dreadful long ride,” says the new- 
comer, with an impatient relief, as she leans against 
the window. 

“ Yes,” answered Kat, with a little start, and just 
realizing the fact. 

“ I think it ’s very funny,” Pansy continued, with 


TWO SECRETS. 


423 


a truly puzzled air. ‘‘When we was here before, papa 
always said to me, ‘come. Pansy, let ^s go take Miss 
Kittie to ride,' and now he never does; he goes off 
all alone by hisself, and takes her." 

“Is it possible ! " said Kat with an air of interest. 

“Yes, 'tis; an' he does a lots of funny things. 
Once when we was to New York, I wanted a penny, 
and he said to get it in his pocket, an' there was n’t 
one penny there, but all the pretty letters Miss Kittie 
had writed to me for my own. I thought ’twas so 
funny, but he said they were safer there, than in my 
box, an' I better leave 'm, so I did." 

“ Very strange," said Kat, with a solemn shake of 
her head. 

“I’ll guess I’ll go down and ask him what for he 
didn’t take me," said Pansy, going away, and leav- 
ing Kat to put her letter up and try to look quite 
composed before Kittie came. 

You must know that this was two years later, and 
that the twins were spending a few weeks with the 
Raymond’s, where there were several other young 
people. Olive was working hard and rising steadily, 
and had never once been heard or suspected of wish- 
ing that Roger Congreve would come home from 
the continent, where he still roamed and threatened 
to settle. She was completely devoted to her art, 
and was now paying her way by teaching, while sh# 


424 


SIX GIRLS. 


was being taught. Mrs. Dering and Jean were in 
Virginia, and when Olive or the twins came home, 
it was to Bea’s home, where everything was cosy and 
happy, with the rising young physician and his pretty 
little wife. 

Two years had made some changes in the twins, 
more perceptibly so in Kat than Kittie ; for time and 
love work wonders, and while she would never quite 
reach the perfection of lady-like grace and dignity, 
that made Kittie so charmingly attractive, she certainly 
had quieted much, was more careful of her language 
and dress, and bade fair to be a most delightful little 
woman after all, and one that Ralph might well love 
and be proud of having won. 

When Kittie came up stairs, she was very quiet, 
and in answer to inquiries, said that her head ached. 
Kat was relieved to think she w^ould not have to be 
on close guard, for she did not feel like telling her 
secret just then, and had rather dreaded Kittie’s eyes. 
But Kittie was wholly absorbed in something else; 
she put away her things, and sat down by the window 
without saying much. 

It ^s pretty near tea-time/^ remarked Kat presently. 
'‘Are you all ready?” 

“I — don’t believe I’ll go down,” said Kittie. “I’m 
j\ot hungry.” 

‘ Humph ! ” thought Kat, with a sudden and intense 


TWO SECRETS. 


425 


curiosity. I guess I ’m not the only one that has a 
secret.” 

Did you have a pleasant ride ? ” she asked, after 
some silence. 

‘‘Yes — very;” answered Kittie absently. 

“ You were gone long enough.” 

No answer. 

“ 1 had a letter from Ralph ; ” guardedly. 

“Did you?” 

“Yes; I expect he’ll come before long.” 

“ I’ d like to see him ; ” with more interest. 
“Wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes — rather,” answered Kat, with a smile at her- 
self in the glass, where she was comparing the effect 
of pink, or blue bow in her hair. “ I ’m going down 
now; what shall I say for you?” 

“ That I ’ve a headache, and not hungry,” said Kittie, 
and Kat whisked gayly off, laughing to herself, to think 
how she had intended to be the mystifier, and instead, 
was the mystified. 

When Kittie was alone, she went to the glass, and 
leaning her chin in her hands, looked herself steadily 
in the face, as though absorbed in a new and astounding 
discovery. It was hard to tell just exactly how it 
affected her, for she looked a good deal astonished, 
rather sober, but very much pleased and a little bit 
shy. 


426 


SIX GIRLS. 


‘^I’m sure/' she said, nodding to herself with all 
earnestness, I never dreamed of such a thing before, 
but — but — I do believe it 's so ; " and then she 
colored up all of a sudden, and the reflection disap- 
peared from view. 

Kat came upstairs very soon after supper, and found 
her sitting in just the same place by the window, and 
just as little inclined to talk as before, which made 
matters seem uncomfortable. 

I declare ! " muttered Kat, slamming about in the 
clothes-press, with no particular object in view, except 
to make a little noise. ‘‘ This is abominable ! I think 
she might tell me, but I 'm not going to ask. I 'm 
sure, I’d tell her quick enough, but she don’t care, 
and I sha’n’t ’till she asks me ; ” and then becoming 
aware of the inconsistency of her reflections Kat shut 
the door with some force, and sat down in silence. 

There was no telling how long this pleasing quietude 
might have lasted, if it had not been for an immense 
bug that sailed in at the window, close to Kittie’s 
nose, and began to bump gayly around the room, 
while both girls flew up, in feminine nervousness, and 
opened fire upon him, with any objects they might 
lay hands on. 

Good gracious ! ” cried Kat, after a breathless 
battle, during which three chairs had been laid low, 
various objects upset, and the lamp blown out. “Let 


TWO SECRETS. 


427 


the old thing go ; it won’t stay in the dark. What 
geese we are anyhow, afraid of a bug.” 

“ I was n’t afraid,” said Kittie, dropping into her 
chair with an exhausted sigh. ‘‘But they always make 
me fidgetty ; and, beside, it came in right across my 
nose. Well, anyhow, it’s cooler in the dark.” 

“ What in the world are you so quiet for ! ” ex- 
claimed Kat, in despair, after a few moments, during 
which silence settled again. 

“I? Nothing,” said Kittie, with a little start. 

“ Nonsense ! ” 

“Well, it’s the truth; I didn’t know that I was 
so quiet,” said Kittie, who in truth had nothing to 
tell. “ 1 ’ll talk gay enough if you ’ll start me on 
something.” 

“You never had to be started before,” grumbled 
Kat, who would have teased and tormented unmer- 
cifully, had it not been for the weight of her own 
secret, which was wonderfully subduing. 

“We had a delightful ride,” continued Kittie, but 
with very apparent exertion. “ Mr. Murray drove out 
by Hanging Rock, and that’s five miles, you know, 
and then we came home by Craig’s creek, and — 
it was very long. What did Ralph say? Where’s 
the letter?” 

“Oh!” said Kat, with a little gasp — for Kittie 
had covered the whole ground so quickly that it 


428 


SIX GIRLS. 


quite took her breath — “you can’t read it in the 
dark, and if we light the lamp that bug will come 
back. It was only a small one. He has been admitted 
to the firm, and is coming pretty soon to see us.” 

Something in the voice, for Kat couldn’t hide 
anything successfully, drew Kittie’s thoughts from her- 
self, and made her turn to look closely at the face 
just visible in the dark. It had been a settled fact 
in the family, for the past year, that Ralph was 
growing very fond of “ Kathy dear,” and that very 
likely she had been the great object in his thoughts 
when he went away, and promised to come back, 
and then — 

“Kat,” said Kittie, with great solemnity, when her 
thoughts reached that point, and she was conscious 
of feeling hurt. “ I never thought you ’d keep such 
a thing from me, and wait for me to ask.” 

“ Neither did I think you would, but you are.” 

“ Me ? Why I Ve nothing to tell.” 

“ Honestly? ” 

“Not a thing. And have you, really?” 

Nothing, except that he asked me if he should 
come, and I sent a letter right off, and told him 
yes,” confessed Kat, relieved to share her secret, and 
feeling very glad and happy as she laid her head 
in Kittie’s lap, as though to hide her face from the 
darkness. 


TWO SECRETS. 


429 


Kittie entirely forgot herself in that moment. 
There came a little choking feeling in her throat, to 
think that she now came second in this dearest 
sister’s heart, and she put her arms around her, with 
a little resentful, defiant clasp, and said nothing. 

^‘Haven’t you anything to confess?” asked Kat, 
in a moment. 

“Come, dear; be honest.” 

“Not much,” said Kittie, slowly. “You know, I 
always thought Mr. Murray was. ever so much older 
than he is, and I never dreamed of his liking me, 
or any such thing, and it all seems so odd. But 
since he came this time, and we have been together 
so often, why — it all seemed different, you know, 
though I can’t tell just how. To-day, while we were 
riding, I dropped some flowers out of my hair, and 
he picked them up, and asked if he might keep 
them, and — and — that’s all,” finished Kittie, quite 
shamefacedly. 

“ How romantic ! ” sighed Kat. “ He ’ll say some- 
thing pretty soon, and I’m very glad. It would be 
dreadful for one of us to go, and not the other. 
But it all seems odd, doesn’t it, dear?” 

So they sat together for a long time, dreaming 
the dream that comes rosily and sweet to all, and 
the silent clasp of their arms, and the pressure of 
their cheeks, laid together in the twilight, expressed 


430 


SIX GIRLS. 


the warm love that mutual joy brightened; and into 
this new experience, as in all that had come to 
them, they went hand in hand. 

After awhile, Kat went down to the parlors, where 
the young people were, and a very funny thing hap- 
pened. It was too warm to dance, play games, or, 
in fact, remain in the house ; so they strolled out 
in the yard, and over the veranda, and once, as 
Kat sat alone in a big rustic chair, she saw Mr. 
Murray coming towards her. The light fell through 
the window, and out on to her face and head, show- 
ing a silver butterfly that Pansy had given to Kittie, 
fastened in her hair ; and guided by this, Mr. Murray 
drew near, and paused at her side, never doubting 
that she was the one he had been in search of. 
A few words were sufflcient to reveal his mistake to 
Kat, but some mischievous impulse kept her quiet as 
to her identity, so they talked on and on, and pres- 
ently he began to tell of the home he had prepared 
in the city, and Kat’s heart sank with a sudden 
thump, but what could she say? He went on without 
giving her chance to utter a word, and just as she 
was growing cold with apprehension, and hardly 
hearing what he was telling, he laid his hand on hers 
that were "clasped in her lap, and said very tenderly : 

‘‘Will you share it with me, darling? I have 
hoped and dreamed that you would, and have made 


TWO SECRETS. 


431 


it beautiful for your sake. It has been many, many 
months since the sweet possibility” — but there Kat 
jumped up, scarlet and ashamed. 

“ Oh, Mr. Murray ! ” I’m not Kittie ; I ’m so 
sorry; but I thought — I meant — I don’t know just 
what. I ’ll tell her to come down and I think she 
will,” Kat cried incoherently, and vanished with a 
complicated and wonderful gesture of her hands, that 
might have passed for a supplication for forgiveness, 
a benediction, or total despair, or most anything. 

“ Go down stairs,” were her first words, as she 
rushed into the room where Kittie sat, and cast her- 
self on to the bed with a hysterical laugh. I ’ve 
been, and gone, and done, and had a proposal from 
Mr. Murray, and you better go down quick. Oh, 
it’s too funny, and he’s dreadfully in earnest; there’s 
something about a sweet possibility, and you ’d better 
go down and listen to it.” 

What do you mean ? ” cried Kittie, starting up, 
and dropping her book, with a vague idea that Kat 
had lost her senses. 

He thought I was you. Oh, it ’s too funny ! and 
he is out there by the geranium-bed waiting for you,” 
cried Kat, convulsed with laughter ; and Kittie dropped 
into her chair, all trembling. 

“Oh, Kat! how could you?” 

“ Bless you, I did n’t do anything except promise 


432 


SIX GIRLS. 


to send you down, and you better go, There, you 
you look like a peach. Put this little posy in your 
hair and go on.’* 

Oh, I can’t,” cried Kittie, all blushes and shyness. 

Yes, you can, you must ; it will never do in the 
world ! ” exclaimed Kat with decision ; so with many 
pauses, much hesitation and trembling, Kittie went, 
and appeared shyly before her lover with down-cast 
eyes, and all the sweet color fled from cheek and 
lips. 

Of course, no one said anything, but somehow 
the secret crept into the gay company, and Kittie 
found her ordeal so trying that she threatened to go 
home. 

Of course we ’ll go as soon as Ralph comes,” said 
Kat, who had her own reasons for wanting to get 
away then ; so Kittie promised to wait those few days. 
It was very evident that Kat was going to meet him 
on the road, for one lovely afternoon, a few days later, 
she was seen to stroll away, dressed with particular 
care in a pale blue lawn, with bunches of forget-me-nots 
in her hair and belt, and a very big hat that conveniently 
and becomingly shaded her eyes, and flapped in the 
breeze as she walked. 

The train was in; it had whizzed around the corner 
of Raymond’s farm over an hour ago, and Ralph had 
had time to nearly make the distance between the 


\ 


TWO SECRETS. 


433 


depot and a certain tall sycamore tree, where she 
had decided to stop and wait; so she strolled slowly, 
with her eyes down, and thought of him. He would 
look just as he used to, she thought, not realizing 
the time that had elapsed, nor how much she had 
changed herself. There would be the merry dark 
eyes, and faint mustache, the eager, almost boyish 
face and figure, and he would kiss her, as he used 
to, and how funny it would seem, to think they were 
nearly engaged. 

She smiled to herself, unconscious that he was 
drawing near, and eagerly watching the pretty, slight, 
blue-robed figure, strolling in the sunshine ; but she 
looked up in a moment and saw him. 

Was that Ralph? She felt her heart jump clear 
into her throat as she paused, and stared at the tall 
gentleman rapidly approaching, and she had no strength 
to take another step. She had arranged a little speech 
to deliver at the proper moment, but, 

‘‘By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover;” 

then all the sweet speech she had fashioned took flight. 
He came nearer with eager brightness in his handsome 
eyes; he took her two resistless hands and looked 
under her hat-brim. 

Kathleen, is it you ? ” 

At the sound of the voice, which was still the same, 
Kat was covered with a swift, shy confusion. She 


434 


SIX GIRLS. 


had expected a boy ; there had come to her a man, 
who had come at her bidding, and who loved her. 
She longed to run away or hide her head, or some- 
thing, but how could she when he held her hands, 
and persisted in looking under her hat. 

I expected to find you racing along the road or 
sitting on a fence, and waiting for me,” he said, with 
a laugh. ‘‘ I looked for my dear romp, and instead 
of that, I meet a graceful lovely young woman with 
the sweetest face in the world, and I don’t believe 
she ’s glad to see me.” 

“What made you go and change so?” stammered 
Kat, still unable to reconcile the vision before her 
with the boyish Ralph Tremayne. “ I ’d never known 
you, anywhere.” 

“ Nor I, you, hardly. What made you go and 
change so?” retorted he. 

“ I have n’t.” 

“ Neither have I.” 

Whereupon they felt better acquainted, and laughed 
socially ; then he kissed her, and slipped her hand 
through his arm. 

“ You ’re not sorry you told me to come, are 
you?” 

“Not a bit. Are you sorry you came?” 

“ Not a bit. You ’re altogether lovely and charming, 
my dear, and may I tell you how much I love you?” 


TWO SECRETS. 


435 


I guess you ’d better not. I ’ll have to get a little 
better acquainted with you first, you ’ve gone and 
grown so big and handsome, and all that,” an- 
swered Kat, feeling more comfortable, and looking up 
at him with some of the old saucy twinkle in her 
eyes. 

Bless those eyes,” he exclaimed, with every symptom 
of telling the forbidden fact. ‘‘ I must tell you, dear, 
that you have grown lovely.” 

You told me that once.” 

‘‘Don’t you like to hear it?” 

“ I should n’t wonder if I did. But I must tell you 
something important before we go any farther,” said 
Kat solemnly. 

“Do so at once; I’m listening.” 

“ Well, Ralph, I ’ve — I ’ve had another proposal 
since I wrote to you,” confessed the wretched little 
hypocrite, with lowered hat-brim. 

“You have? By jingo! Who from?” Ralph 
dropped her hand, and the ruddy color went from his 
face suddenly. 

“ From a New York gentleman at Mrs. Raymond’s, 
and — and — ” 

“ Go on,” said Ralph shortly, his voice cold and 
hard. 

“ He said he had built — no, bought — no, had a 
beautiful home, and asked me to share it, and I did n’t 


436 


SIX GIRLS. 


know what on earth to say, so — I told him — that I 
wasn’t Kittie, and then he changed his mind.” 

‘‘ Kathy ! ” What a blessing it was that no one 
was anywhere near, for right there in the sunshine, 
Ralph threw his arm around her and drew her close, 
to kiss the saucy lips and eyes. ‘‘How could you? 
I ’m stunned out of a year’s growth 1 Was it Murray? ” 

“ Well, I don’t think you ’ll miss it,” laughed Kat. 
“Yes, it was Mr. Murray, and Kittie ’s going to share 
that home.” 

“You don’t say so. We’ll go off doubly and very 
soon, too, for of course the little mother will be 
willing.” 

“Yes, of course,” said Kat. 

So they strolled on in the sunshine, and the sweetest 
story in the world, gray with age, yet fresh as spring- 
time in their hearts, made the sunshine brighter than, 
ever before to their happy eyes. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT. 

FIVE YEARS LATER. 

The house was lighted from attic to basement, and 
though it was Christmas Eve, the air was like spring, 
for nature sometimes turns freakish, and smiles on us 
when we are expecting the cold shoulder. Here and 
there, a window was open, for the Derings always 
did love plenty of air; and so a merry sound of 
laughter and gay voices was wafted out into the 
night air, and the old trees rustled joyfully, as though 
the sound were a familiar and happy one to them, 
and it did their old bones — or bark, good to hear 
it. Even the vines, that clambered about as gayly 
now as ever — only closer and thicker, tapped on the 
windows and nodded their leafless heads, as though 
in welcome, and fairly rustled with joy clear down 


438 


SIX GIRLS. 


to their aged roots, to see all the dear children at 
home once more. 

The front door stood hospitably open, as it had 
always had a trick of doing, and in the wide old 
hall were two children, one of whom sat on the 
stairs, with a sober, thoughtful face, while the other, 
in diminutive petticoats, was trying to stand on his 
head against the stout bannister-post. One failure 
followed another, in discouraging succession, but the 
little fellow kept determinedly at it, in spite of 
bumps and thumps, and finally succeeded in hoisting 
his fat legs up for the briefest second imaginable, 
which was perfectly satisfactory, and after which he 
righted himself, with serenely glowing face. 

‘‘Did,*’ he said, triumphantly; to which the judge, 
sitting gravely on the stairs, assented with much 
solemnity, and seemed to be casting about in his 
mind for some other feat to propose. 

“ Hurts,” said the young tumbler, rubbing his top- 
knot with a mite of a hand, and glancing severely 
at the judge. 

“ Stand on this,” said the judge, coming down and 
offering his square inch of pocket-handkerchief, which 
was accordingly laid down by the post. “ That makes 
it thoft; won’t hurt now. Do’t over.” 

With a readiness and faith that was sublime, he 
of the petticoats went at it, and had just succeeded 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, ETC. 


439 


in turning a side somersault, such as was never seen 
before, when further effort was nipped in the bud 
by some one coming into the hall. 

“ Good gracious ! ” cried a merry voice, as the 
tumbler was caught up, shaken, and set down with 
some force. What are you up to now, Thomas, 
my lively son?” 

He wath standin* on hith head, aunty,” explained 
the judge, with great politeness, as the tumbler ap- 
peared too much confused by all the circumstances 
to make any answer. 

“Wath he, indeed?” laughed Thomases mama. 
“ Mashing his little head all to jelly ; poor Tommy ! 

“ No,” said Tom, whose remarks were more notice- 
able for brevity than anything else. “No shelly.” 

“ Yes, indeed, little soft-head ; come, ask papa,” 
and with that Mrs. Tremayne — for who should it be 
but lively Kat — -shouldered her small, but ambitious 
son, and carried him away. The judge looked for- 
lorn after that. He folded his small handkerchief and 
put it carefully away in its tiny pocket, then he sat 
down on the lowest step and looked thoughtfully out 
of the front door, as though he expected further 
developments to arrive from that direction. Nor was 
he disappointed. There arose a sound of labored 
and energetic breathing from without, as of some 
one toiling up the steps, and then something in 


440 


SIX GIRLS. 


white fluttered across the porch, and in at the door, 
and the judge fairly beamed with delight and satis- 
faction. 

“ Hullo ! he said politely. 

^‘’Llo,” returned the new-comer. 

Where ’d you come from?’’ 

‘‘Off,” said the stranger, with a flourish of both 
small arms, intended to indicate some great distance. 
^‘Runned off.” 

“Did you? From Pansy?” 

“Yeth.” And the bunch of ruffles and brown ribbon 
shook its head with distinctive force, while the bits 
of slippered feet began to dance wildly up and down 
the hall. 

“ Mama ’ll come,” said the judge, warningly, and,^ 
sure enough, out came a lady, with the loveliest face, 
and a white lace cap on her grey hair. 

Come, dears,” she said, in a voice we know well, 
and both flew to her, for who was dearer to their 
loving hearts than “Dramma?” “Time for little 
birdies to be eating supper,^ and getting little peepers 
shut up tight, before Santa Claus comes,” she said, 
going towards the dining room, with a little hopper 
clinging to each hand, and playing peep around her. 
Tom was already at the table, pounding with his 
spoon, and smiling serenely through the milk that 
spattered his face from forehead to chin, and there 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, ETC. 


441 


were two other bowls and spoons and high chairs, 
ready and waiting. 

Naughty .Louise,” said Mrs. Kittie, as she lifted 
the white-robed morsel to her chair, and, tied on her 
bib. ‘‘Run away from poor sister Pansy, and make 
her feel bad.” 

“All baddy, mama?” inquired Louise, looking over 
her bowl with repentant eyes. 

“She corned in the front door,” said Philip, other- 
wise the judge, who was the eldest hopeful of the 
Barnett household, and was, at present, under the 
care of aunt Kathy, as mama Bea had the baby in 
the sitting-room. “ I thaw her,” he went on to ex- 
plain with care ; but was evidently disgusted, that 
every one laughed and talked, instead of listening to 
him ; so paused right there, and ate his bread and 
milk in silence and with dignity, not even unbending 
when Tom and Louise had a skirmish, and testified 
their cousinly regard, by throwing their spoons at each 
other, and upsetting what milk had been left in their 
bowls. 

“ Dear me, what children 1 ” cried Kittie, running 
for a towel, with a laugh that sounded as though 
“ such children ” were very delightful. 

“Thomas, Thomas!” said Mrs. Kat, with an air 
of grave reproof, such as she sometimes wasted on 
her lively son; and Thomas looked up at her, with 


442 


SIX GIRLS. 


roguish eyes, brimful of mischief, and fairly crowed 
with glee, a method of expression that he resorted 
to in gay moments, as it was still an exertion for 
him to talk. 

When the young people were finally carried off to 
bed, every one went along, for the gentlemen were 
all down town, and what belter could the mothers 
and aunties do than follow the procession headed by 
Dramma,’’ and watch the roguish imps get into 
their snowy little nests? There was much skirmishing 
and crowing, but it all ended in a doleful wail, for 
Tom fell out of bed and bumped his precious head, 
irid refused to ht i:omforted, in any way, shape, or 
form, until Philip was heard to remark with admir- 
ation : 

^‘You stood on your head, Tom, and wath straight 
up,’* and that was Balm-of-Gilead to the infantile soul 
of that Young America, for he immediately ceased 
to weep, and looked content. 

They all lingered there some time after the chil- 
dren had grown quiet, but finally went down stairs, 
and left Grandma rocking and watching, till the last 
little peeper should be closed, for she insisted on 
staying, as all the little folks were not with her 
always, and dearly she enjoyed each moment spent 
with them. 

Down stairs, the sisters clustered about the fire, 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, ETC. 


443 


with all the old girlish love and glee, and looking at 
them, in that familiar group, very few changes were 
noticeable, for time brings few foot-prints if the heart 
is happy. Be a wore a matronly little cap of bits of 
lace and blue bows, and held in her arms a gleeful 
baby, with roguish eyes and sunny little rings of hair, 
who was named after dear grandma, and who obstinately 
refused to go “by-low,’* as any well regulated baby 
ought to do, by seven o’clock in the evening. Kittie 
and Kat, on the lounge with clasped arms as of old, 
looked scarcely a whit changed, though they were 
both indelibly stamped with the grace and elegance 
of city ladies, and had fulfilled the promise in girl- 
hood, by becoming truly refined and lovely women. 
The little stool by the fire was not vacant, for there 
sat Jean as of old, with the same sweet face and lovely 
eyes, only now she was taller than mama, and the still 
childish face wore a perfect happiness, for on the 
hand that supported her chin, the firelight showed a 
ring, and in the smiling eyes any one could read the 
story of it. Olive was there too. Olive, of whom 
they wore all so proud, and who was still Olive Dering ; 
and time had made her very fair to look upon ; for 
energy and purpose had stamped her face indelibly, 
and the clear eyes were beautiful in their light of strength 
and happy content. She was no longer a struggling 
girl, battling with all circumstances, and fighting her 


444 


SIX GIRLS. 


way into work, but a woman, restful, yet not resting, 
in perfect success; for every nerve was still alert to 
further progress, and every wish and ambition had 
been sacrificed to one great desire, which would next 
year be satisfied ; she was going to Europe. Masters 
and travel awaited her eager heart, and her own hand 
had carved the way. Her studio in New York was 
filled with works; many homes, far and wide, owed 
their pleasure, in the portrayed face of some dear one, 
to her pencil or brushes ; and a large class, constantly 
increasing in size, tread the first pathways of art under 
her careful guidance. And so with hard work and 
economy, the money had come in, and been laid away ; 
and now at last, there was enough. Mother and Olive 
were going to Europe. 

I know it is all very nice and easy to carry 
a girl through ambitious battles in a book, and 
after a lapse of years, which are left to the 
imagination, to bring her out, glowing with success, 
and with her heart’s desire realized. It is done 
in a book this time ; but Olive Dering’s love and 
longing for art, her struggles, determination, and 
final success, are taken from the life of one who still 
lives, and who is now enjoying the perfect happiness 
earned by hard labor, in the galleries of the old 
masters. There had been toil and troubles and trials ; 
discouraging tears and times of despair, in the years 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, ETC. 


445 


through which we have slipped without a pause ; but 
it would do no good to tell them all ; it is enough 
to know that patience, perseverance and will had 
overcome them, as there is rarely a case where they 
will not. 

Next year this time we ’ll not be here together,” 
said Kittie, breaking a long pause, such as will often 
come, when hearts are content with woildless com- 
munion. 

Why not?” asked Jean. ‘‘Mama and Olive being 
in Italy, is no reason why you should not come and 
spend Christmas with me.” 

“ Bless the baby, to think she will be married then,” 
exclaimed Bea, caressing the brown head with loving 
hand. “ Every one gone from the old home but 
Jeanie, and she presiding over it, a married lady; to 
think of it, girls?” 

“So wags the world,” said Kat with a brisk nod. 
“ I think it would be sad to come here and spend 
Christmas, with Olive and mama gone ; but you must 
all come to Boston, and if my house is n’t big enough, 
I ’ll have an addition put on.” 

“ No, my home is best,” put in Kittie with deci- 
sion. “It’s between you all, and is plenty big 
enough. That is the place.” 

“Yes, indeed,” chimed in Pansy, who was now a 
tall pretty girl of ten, and perfectly devoted to 


446 


SIX GIRLS. 


mama. want you to come to New York, and 

spoke about it before we left home ; did ii*t we 
mama?’’ 

Yes, and we ’ll wage a brisk war with any one 
who puts in a claim, so you had better subside at 
once my dear,” answered Kittie with a smile at her 
twin, which looked like most anything except a war- 
like preparation. 

‘‘There’s the gate, the boys are coming,” was the 
answer of Mrs. Kat, and sure enough, there arose a 
clatter of feet on the porch, a smell of cigar smoke 
in the air, and in came “ the boys,” with the usual 
amount of noise, which boys, big or little, invariably 
make ; and then grandma came flitting down stairs, 
with a smile and a warning “hush; ’’and there they 
were all together. 

Supper was a gloriously gay meal, where every one’s 
health was drank in fragrant coffee, from Grandma 
Dering, down to Prince, who had been returned to 
the home of his youth, and was passing his last days 
in peaceful content, with just enough exercise to 
keep his old bones from rusting out too fast. And 
then they talked of those who were gone from the 
circle : Father Dering, Ernestine, and lastly, dear old 
Uncle Ridley, who had died that year, and for whom 
every one had such a warm loving memory. 

After supper the boys went off to the library to 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, ETC. 


447 


smoke, and mother and daughters clustered together 
in the dear old sitting-room, to chat lovingly as in 
other days; for now, as then, the sweet motherly 
face, to which they still looked for love, comfort, 
and praise, was the dearest in the world to them, 
and the loveliest, they all thought, with its serene 
happy smile and contented loving eyes. 

Has anybody any disappointments to tell to- 
night,’* she asked, looking around at the bright happy 
faces, and remembering another night long ago, when 
they all sat so, and told such. 

“ Yes, I ’ve got one,” announced Kat, just as 
briskly as she had done on that other night. I 
can’t, to save my life, arrive at the point where I 
will always look stately and unruffled, and ready to 
receive callers, in spite of babies and household work, 
as Mrs. McGregor does, who lives opposite me. And 
then, I do believe that Thomas is going to be short 
and fat, instead of tall and slim, and from present 
indications I think he will prefer being a clown to 
anything else in the world. That ’s my disappoint- 
ment, and it’s just about as sensible as my other, 
but it ’s the best I ’ve got. What ’s yours, Kittie ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know, I ’m sure,” answered Kittie, look- 
ing down into Pansy’s upturned face, and laying her 
hand lovingly on the curly head. I have the dearest 
husband, and two of the most precious little daughters 


443 


SIX GIRLS. 


in the world, and what more could I ask? I always 
did want curly hair and black eyes, but Pansy has 
one, and Louise the other, so I 'm content. The 
only disappointment I have, is that mama and Olive 
will not be with us next Christmas.’’ 

‘‘ Well, I Ve a very small one,” said Bea, as she 
rocked and trotted, with a vain attempt to get small 
Bessie’s eyes shut. Walter is n’t quite as well as 
I should like to have him ; he works too hard, poor 
fellow, and I want him to go off to the mountains next 
summer, and get rested, but we can’t all afford to go, 
and. he says he will not go and leave me at home 
in the hot weather with the house and babies. So 
I can’t help worrying and wishing that I could help 
him some way.” 

“You do help him, dear,” interposed Mrs. Dering 
promptly. “ You keep home bright and happy, and 
anticipate all his wants ^and wishes. In times of weariness 
or trouble, he has you and the dear babies for comfort. 
You love, sympathize and help him in a thousand ways, 
the want of which he could not do without.” 

“And sew on his buttons,” added Kat. “Don’t 
leave that out, for if he ’s anything like Ralph, it ’s a 
mighty big item.” 

“ And here ’s my little girl,” continued Mrs. Dering 
in a moment, and looking down at Jean, whose head 
lay in her lap. “Has she any?” 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, ETC. 449 

''None, mama,” answered Jean, looking up with 
happy eyes. "Except that you are going away, and 
that Uncle Ridley is not here.” 

" Surely, no one supposes for an instant that I have 
any,” said Olive, and every one shook their heads in 
a decided negative, except Mrs. Dering, and she 
looked across into Olive’s eyes with a smile, and 
Olive, catching the look, dropped them to the fire, 
and said no more. She had intimated that she had 
none; but was it so in the depths of her heart? Was 
she quite content? 

"You do to-night, as you did before, and no one 
asks me for mine,” said Mrs. Dering with a smile. 
" Do you rightly guess that I have none ? ” 

" We hope that you have none, mama,” said Bea, 
lovingly. 

" Indeed, I have not, my dear girls ; instead, as 
I sit here to-night with you all around me, I wonder 
if I am fully grateful for how good God has been 
to me. I look at you, and I see in my girls just 
such good, true women as their father would have 
them, and I am more than content. I would that 
these three vacant places might be filled to-night, 
but God knows best, and I feel only love, not regret. 
No, my dear girls, I have no disappointments to-night, 
only a heart full of happiness and content.” 

They were silent after that for a little while, and 


450 


SIX GIRLS. 


then Bess dropped to sleep, and Olive crossed to 
Bea’s side, as the gentlemen were heard coming from 
the library. 

“ Let me take her up stairs, Bea — you look tired ; ” 
and Bea handed the precious charge over, and Olive 
went slowly up stairs, with her arms tenderly clasped 
about the little form, her cheeks laid to the soft baby 
face, and a look in her eyes that mother might have 
read had she seen it. 

The sleepers already there, and sprawled about in 
characteristic attitudes, was a sight to hold one’s gaze, 

Philip lay perfectly straight and orderly, with a sober 
countenance, and both hands crossed on his little 
stomach ; while Tom, the tumbler, had completely 
reversed himself, and lay with his feet on the pillow, 
his body in a snarl, and his head just ready to fall 
off the edge with the next jerk. Louise had dispensed 
with her pillow, it was on the floor, while she lay 
in the sweetest possible attitude, with one tiny hand 
under the dimpled cheek, on which the long, dark 
lashes rested softly, and one wee snowy little foot * 
peeped out of the clothes. Olive laid the baby in 
its nest, and covered it warmly, bending many times 
to kiss the rosy little face ; then she righted Tom, 
testored the pillow, and removed some of Philip’s 
covering, as he seemed to be too warm; and then 
she stood still looking at them. 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, ETC. 


451 


Was she perfectly happy, and quite content.? 

The pale light that fell across her, as she stooa there 
watching the sleepers, with eyes that were traitorously 
expressive, would have made a very dear picture to one 
pair of eyes, had they not been too far away to rest on. 
The grey dress which she wore, fell in colorless dra- 
peries, and the soft laces at her throat and wrists, were 
very becoming to the clear skin. In the rich dark hair, 
was a white flower, that touched tne tip of her ear as 
with a caress ; but greatest of all was the eyes, that 
were growing dim with tears, as she stood there. The 
feeling that was in her heart was no new one, but to-night 
it came differently from what it ever had before. Then 
it had only been a half defined loneliness that could 
be quenched with a little effort, and pass without a 
name; but to-night it came surging up and assumed 
shape and title before her eyes. She had no claim 
on these little ones ; she would never be able to 
stand so and watch one of her own in its innocent 
sleep. Would never feel the tender happiness of 
knowing that her blood beat in another little heart, that 
her life had given breath to its laughing lips, and the 
warm color to the dimpled cheeks. In the room 
down stairs, each sister had her own; even little Jean 
would soon be claimed by one to whom she was dearer 
than all else in the world; and in a few years mother 
might be gone, and then — success was hers. She 


453 


SIX GIRLS. 


had worked and won. Her name was on many lips, 
and her fame spreading. The goal she had looked 
forward to for years, with eager heart, was hers at 
last, and while the anticipation, had in this case, lost 
nothing through possession; did it wholly satisfy her? 
Was there no corner, no longing, or want that brushes, 
oils, and inspiration failed to satisfy? Her eyes grew 
blind with strange, wistful tears, a queer choking filled 
her throat, and with a sudden movement she had 
crossed the room and knelt down by the baby. Had 
she no disappointment? Would she not have said 
^‘corae,” to some one, still a wanderer beyond the 
seas, had it been in her power? Or, had he stood 
before her, with the old, old longing, would she have 
drawn back and said : “ My art is all I want.^' 

Ah, indeed. Uncle Ridley had been right: 

single flame gives little warmth, and needs a kindred spark.** 

Art was none the less dear, but the woman’s heart had 
asserted itself, and there was a yearning passionate cry 
for a love that would answer to that, which had so 
strangely grown within her heart, and which called 
for something more than a lifeless irresponsive idol. 

Sometimes, even out of books> the right thing 
happens just at the right moment ; then, again, 
sometimes it does not ; but this is what happened 
just at that moment. Some one had been standing 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, ETC. 453 

in the shadow outside the door, for several moments 
^nd now entered, and crossing the room, stood 
beside her, kneeling there, and said : 

Olive.’^ 

She stood up quickly, and looked at him for a 
moment, and knew him, in spite of seven years’ 
absence, and the bronze and change wrought by 
time and constant travel. Yes, she knew him, for 
the eyes were the same, and wore the look she had 
seen in them last. It was a true love that had 
bided its time, and won its reward at last. She did 
not blush rosy red, as most women would have done, 
but a speechless joy came slowly into her eyes, 
where the tears yet lay, and she was quite silent. 

“You have no welcome for me?“ he asked, hold- 
ing out his hand. “ Have I waited so long, and 
come in vain, at last, Olive?” 

“No,” she answered, finding her voice, and it 
sounded strangely sweet and glad, even to herself, 
as she drew nearer and laid her hand in his. “ I 
am glad that you came; I — I have wished that you 
would.” 

It was not a romantic place at all, with the three 
little tumbled beds and sleepers ; the diminutive 
stockings, shoes, and slips, scattered about, and Philip 
unmistakably snoring, as became a worn-out judge. 
But as he clasped the hand laid in his, and drawing 


454 


SIX GIRLS. 


her to him, kissed her gladly, I doubt if the most 
romantic spot, either side the sea, could have made 
that meeting sweeter to either of them. 

I was on the porch when you passed through 
the hall,’’ said Roger, in a moment. ‘‘ I had been 
out there some little time watching you through the 
window, and studying your face, that I have so 
longed and hungered to see in these years, and 1 
read in it such complete happiness, that my heart 
failed me. I had waited till you should reach the 
perfect goal of your ambition, and should know what 
it was to own fame; and as I looked at you, 
to-night, I thought it satisfied your heart entirely. 
So I was tempted to go away without having you 
send me. When you came into the hall with the 
baby, I followed you up here — quite against my 
will. As you stood here a few moments ago, and 
I saw that sadness creep into your face and eyes, 
I first thought that, perhaps, I had not come in vain. 
And have you really wished that I would come, 
Olive?” 

‘‘Yes; neither my work nor my life is perfect 
without you, Roger, and I think that I have known 
it for some time, though I never so fully confessed 
it to myself as to-night. I honestly sent you from 
me, and I honestly welcome you back. I have 
nothing more to wish for now.” 


MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, ETC. 455 

So together they went down stairs, and the wan- 
derer^s welcome far exceeded his strongest hopes. 
A new ray of light and joy seemed brought into 
that circle, with this new union of hands, hearts, 
and happiness ; and as Mrs. Dering kissed each of 
her girls good-night, she said, looking into Olive’s 
eyes, with a loving smile : 

“I fully believe, dear, that now you. have no 
disappointment.” 


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